The Mule Kicks Back
by clairon
Summary: When will Face take Colonel Smith’s warnings about honey traps seriously? COMPLETED
1. Chapter 1: A Bang on the Head

**Rating:** K+

**Type**: Adventure

**Summary:** When will Face take Colonel Smith's warnings about honey traps seriously?

**Warnings/Content:** Contains some violence – well it is the A Team, after all and maybe a couple of 'suspect' words.

**Author's Notes**: A tribute to the best TV show ever produced (in my humble opinion, obviously!) I have tried to capture the feel and atmosphere of an A Team episode, so there is only superficial violence, very little sex and definitely no SLASH – the boys are all red bloodied heterosexuals here!! I have included many of my favourite bits from the show and tried to weave them together into a new story. The result is, of course, rather Face-centric (but what else would you expect from a self confessed 'Dirk girl'?) but I have tried to involve the other guys as much as possible. The story is set somewhere around Series 3 and 4, so the Boys are at their prime and have yet to be sucked into the world of Stockwell!

**Apologies**: I fear I have taken the name of Navy SEALs in vain but hey, they are not Green Berets are they, therefore they are fair game. I have also unashamedly reprinted lyrics and characters and asked no one's permission for which I fully expect to be thrown in jail at any minute.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the A-Team characters (or any others you may recognize that I have pinched!) and am making no profit from this story, which is a work of fan fiction only.

So enough of the preamble; I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing this……………………

* * *

**THE MULE KICKS BACK**

**Part One: **

**A Bang on the Head**

It really would be better if he listened to the Colonel, Templeton Peck thought distractedly. After all Hannibal had been telling him for years he should learn to control his natural appetites, but how could he? If she was pretty and available and giving him the 'come-on' with a sexy smile, Face felt he had a duty to oblige – making people, especially beautiful woman, happy was what he'd been put on this earth for, surely?

Peck sighed. He really should learn to say no, or at least adhere to some sort of risk assessment process before he allowed himself to succumb to the charms of each and every lady who looked at him in that particular way. He knew that he would be the first to complain if any other member of the Team put them in as much danger on such a regular basis as his philandering ways did. But it had become a standing joke with the rest of the Team and even him. Once he saw the look, and it was in the way a girl rolled her eyes at him hungrily, he was going to fall for it – Murdock and BA would snicker indulgently and the Colonel, well the Colonel may well shake his head but in the end he would come through and rescue his errant Lieutenant from whatever situation his red-bloodied libido had gotten him into!

Peck remembered all the times down the years – from the brothels of Saigon through just about every State in the goddamn Union, to this place now – the girl had flicked her yes, the Faceman had answered and the rest of the Team had leapt in, at great risk to themselves, to save him.

Face snorted, wondering if it was going to be the same now and acknowledging that it really was time that he stopped such immature behaviour. Was this latest liaison just one risk too far? He opened his eyes then to see her and instantly forgot his misgivings of a second before. Man; she was so beautiful with long black flowing hair cascading over her dusky shoulders, a wasp-like waist and long, long legs; plus her eyes! Those eyes were dark and limitless and when he looked into them Face could feel his control slipping – oh shit! How was a guy supposed to cope, to walk away from the promise of ecstasy embodied in this lady's beautiful form? Even as he dived on in there, he could hear the Colonel's warning voice but he had ignored it so many times already – why should this time be any different?

Next time, he promised, next time I will listen, Hannibal!

But not this time; this time he was going for it, whispering sweet nothings as he gently ran his hand down her smooth hair in a stroking motion. "Rosa," he whispered as her name ran around his brain – never had a Rosa before!

He would have preferred champagne, satin sheets, the soft tinkle of romantic music, but he would take it in the rather less luxurious surroundings of the small Argentinean village where he found himself at the end of their most recent mission. They had been here for three days, had tracked down the kidnapped son of a rich Spanish industrialist, Senor Jose Gonzales, liberated the kid from the scum balls who were holding him and seen the family reunited earlier that evening – piece of cake!

So now, after the danger and stress of the last few days, Face thought he was entitled to play. The rest of the Team were around somewhere but Face had got kind of absorbed in Rosa and the drink 'fernet' which she had plied him with. She had offered to teach him to tango and Face had to admit he had rarely experienced anything that was quite so sexually stimulating; to have Rosa's pretty body pressed so close and moving beneath him as she directed his own somewhat loose and uncontrolled limbs around the floor – was he really that bad a dancer or was it to do with the copious amounts of alcohol he had drunk? Either way, deep inside of him a delicious desire was awakening and he was willingly slipping under her spell, prepared to face any danger for this chance of paradise.

Apparently unnoticed by the others in the smokey, smelly bar, she danced him out of the cramped cantina and around to the flimsy shack, chased out the chickens and lit a sweet smelling candle before manoevering him towards the blanket on the floor. It smelt of wood, and warmth and wonder. He felt his overwrought senses realing as she began to unbutton his shirt and then preceeded to run those small delicate hands across his chest, still humming sexily deep in her throat the music they had danced to. Face groaned as his ardour ignited into hot flaming passion. There was no going back now, he realised with only a slight sense of doubt, he was hers totally.

This was why he never listened to Hannibal! This was why he ran the risk and would continue to do so as long as he could. Rosa was smiling at him as he kissed her, red rouged lips opening to give him entry, tongues twisting and entwining as they continued the dance. There was, quite frankly, nothing that could compare with the feel, the taste, and the sight of a pretty girl trembling in his arms, waiting for him to take them to places she had never seen before. He was so ready for this, so up for it!

No matter what the colonel ordered, he could not give this up… never… not for all the…..

……. And then it all went black, inexplicably so. The passion that roared through him, and demanded such instant satiation that it tightened all of his sinews with the promise of extreme and ultimate completion, was suddenly extinguished, switched off like a light.

Face let out a slow, weak moan as he slumped backwards on to the faded, old blanket, completely senseless and frighteningly vulnerable.

"Wakey, wakey, little Facey!"

The familiar voice stabbed brightly into the hazy, dim heart of Peck's enforced slumber, forcing him to wake and let go of the blackness of oblivion that he had been clinging to.

"Doctor says you should wake up now." The voice again, soft but probing. "Come on you lazy little…."

"Arrrggggggh!" Peck snorted. It may not have been English but it sure made him feel better. His head was throbbing, he felt sick and the room he was in was so bright, too bright; its immaculate whiteness seemed to burn into the back of his retinas even through his closed lids. He was thirsty and tired and every part of his body hurt. "What… what happened?" he asked in a voice that could gravel a sidewalk. Forcing his eyes open he stared up at the pilot uncertainly.

"What happened?" Murdock parroted.

Face's shaking hand went up to his head which he believed was in danger of being blown from his shoulders by the ferocity of the pilot's raucous voice. "Too loud," he muttered as he swallowed back the bile that was making a rush up his throat.

"Murdock!" Hannibal's voice came from beyond the limits of Face's restricted, watery vision. "Give him some room – he has had a bang on the head!"

"Bang on the….." Face began. "I thought I…."

"What did you think, Facey?" Murdock's face bobbed in front of him animatedly like a buoy in a squall.

Peck rubbed at his eyes in the hope that the act would wipe away the moist mistiness currently encamped around his vision. He sat forward a little but was unable to stop the harsh intake of breath that whooshed into his lungs at the pain of the movement.

"Easy, Face," the pilot's voice was suddenly soothingly sweet and his hands were on Face's shoulders, helping him forwards while puffing up his pillows so he could sit more comfortably.

Face gulped, still unsure whether his stomach's eject button was going to come into action. Murdock moved close again, clasping hold of the other man's hand and stroking it lovingly.

"Murdock!" Face spat moodily as he snatched his hand away. Then he noticed the bandage around Murdock's palm. "What did you do?"

Murdock pouted. "My, my, my, my, you have woken up in a bad mood, Face! It's not my fault you hit your head!" He glanced down at his hand, chuckled self consciously. "I don't really know," he confessed. "Guess you weren't the only one out of it, last night! At least I didn't bang my head."

"Bang my head?" Peck repeated, his features contorting in confusion as he tried to remember what had been happening before… before…… Rosa! The confusion was burnt off by a supercilious smile as he remembered those legs, those eyes and those…..

"Lieutenant!" Smith's voice snapped him back. "What exactly is the last thing you remember?"

Peck gulped. He didn't want to go there, not in the present company but he also knew that Hannibal wasn't about to let him off the hook. Still, he had to try! "Where am I?" he asked weakly, affecting a swoon back into the pillows.

"Village hospital." Murdock replied. "Somebody found you in an alleyway last night, lying in a pool of blood." He shook his head gravely. "Sloppy, Faceman, very sloppy."

The Colonel let out a long sigh. "Who was she, Lieutenant?"

"Who was who?" Face decided to continue with the dumb act.

Hannibal moved into his line of vision, looming behind Murdock, his face set in an uncompromising scowl. "The girl who brought that lecherous smile to your lips just now."

"There was a girl?" Face tried to look as wide eyed and innocent as he could but it hurt; the light was still too bright. He admitted defeat as the Colonel's frown only got graver so he cast his glance towards Murdock, looking for support there.

The pilot shook his head. "No girl."

"So where'd you get the girl from, Colonel?" Peck asked.

"I didn't get a girl from anywhere, Face! But you did, didn't you? There's always a girl with you, so spill, Lieutenant, right now!"

"OK," Peck let out an overly dramatic sigh of defeat. "I admit there was a girl."

"Tut, tut, Faceman never changes!" Murdock chuckled.

Peck threw him a condescending glance as he continued, "Last thing I remember, I was…. well, we were…"

"Templeton Peck don't be so bashful!" Murdock laughed. "I normally can't stop you from reliving each of your conquests in graphic detail."

"Murdock, gentlemen never talk about such things!" Peck argued but Murdock only smiled annoyingly, so he continued, "Any way she was just teaching me to tango."

"Tango!" Murdock guffawed.

"Who was she, Face?" Smith pressed impatiently.

"Rosa," Face replied somewhat sheepishly.

"Rosa?" Murdock repeated. "What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

"Rosa, who?" the Colonel ignored Murdock's Shakespearean rambling as the pilot fiddled nervously with his hand bandage.

Face shrugged. "I don't know."

Smith rolled his eyebrows and held the younger man's nervous gaze pressing him resolutely.

Face fidgeted uncomfortably. "She was the maid in the house where we rescued the kid."

"Face!" Smith snorted. "How many times!"

"She wasn't a set up!"

"How do you know?"

"Because…. Because well, I'm still here aren't I?"

At that point a rather rotund nurse entered the room. She immediately began talking in staccato Spanish.

Face felt suddenly very tired and lay back on to the pillows, glad of the respite from the Colonel's interrogation. How many times had he woken up in a hospital bed pretending that everything was just swell? Too many times! He really needed to get his life into some sort of order – out of control was no where near close to an accurate description of the chaos!

He sighed and the nurse beamed at him in a motherly fashion before leaning forward and tweaking his cheek. As she reached across him to puff up his pillows even more, Face sent a pitiful glance towards the Colonel. Hannibal smiled knowingly and moved to put his arm around the nurse.

"Please, the doctor," he said as he manoeuvred her towards the door. "Find the doctor please." He gently thrust her into the corridor.

He turned back to the bed, his compassion gone. "How many times have I warned you, kid? How many times have you done it just the same?"

"But….."

"No, enough already!" Smith had lost his good humour completely. "We've wasted enough time – we need to get home."

Peck pouted. "I may not be fit enough to travel," he whined. "My head hurts!"

Murdock shook his own head and flashed a 'don't-push-it' look at the blond but Face was too lost in his own performance to notice. He closed his eyes and groaned weakly.

"It's not the only thing that will hurt unless you quit it now, Lieutenant," Smith snapped. "I suggest you shut up and try to remember how a night with the tango teacher of your dreams ended up with you in a pool of blood in an alleyway."

Face pouted and opened his mouth to respond but caught the tensing of the Colonel's posture and that, added to his belated perception of Murdock's warning look, made him decide that it was probably not the time to argue at this point.

Instead he gingerly lifted his hand to his head and felt around where the thumping pain seemed to be coming from. He touched the soft bandage and then threw a panicked glance towards Murdock who was still sitting on the bed regarding him with sympathetic eyes.

"My hair?" Face asked tremulously.

The pilot shrugged. "I think they had to shave it to get to the wound and then to…."

"They shaved my hair!" Peck lurched forwards.

"Easy, Face," Murdock leaned forward to gently ease his friend back to the pillow.

"Mirror," Face asked in desperation. "I need to see!"

"No mirrors, Face," the Colonel's voice was authoritative and brooked no argument. "Anyway your wound is all covered with a bandage, you can't see anything!"

"My hair!" Face muttered in despair.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen!"

Peck looked up to see a tall, blond man with the coldest, most lifeless eyes he had ever seen, in a white coat advancing through the door. "I am glad to see you are awake, Mr Peck. I am Dr Karl Brandt; I've been looking after you." His voice was as clinically cold as his eyes, but he held out his hand.

Peck accepted it. "Thank you, doctor," he said. "Can I go now, please?"

Five hours later Face found himself sitting dejectedly on a scheduled flight to California from Buenos Aires that he had managed, bandaged head or not, to scam four places on by flirting admirably with the Check-In girls. He hadn't heard Hannibal finding fault with that little scheme!

Beside him BA Baracus snored contentedly. Face however, was anything but happy; his features were set in a grimace as he worried at his seatbelt with one hand and his bandage with the other.

"Face, you OK?" Murdock asked from the other side of BA.

Peck snorted. "Oh, I'm just great, Murdock," he replied. "Head ache, hair shaved, memory of last night completely gone. I've never been better."

"Good," Murdock retorted sweetly. "Cos I'd hate to think you were blowing this little bitty accident out of all proportion! Just take it as a sign – you weren't born to tango!"

"I'm glad you think it's not important," Peck responded tartily and looked away moodily.

As soon as they had reached the airport he had dashed to the washroom and a mirror to make a thorough investigation of the state of his hair. The face that greeted him was familiar but pale; he didn't particularly like the black circles below his eyes and, rather worryingly, thought he could see a new wrinkle at the side of his nose. He let out a brave sigh laced with anguish and then carefully turned his head to see the place where he had been injured. Not much to see really – a big white marshmallow of bandage stuck to the side of his head; not exactly alluring but he could live with it. He leaned closer to see if he could detect a perimeter of baldness beneath the plaster because the rest of his head was thankfully fully thatched! Much to his relief there didn't seem to be any hint of bareness. Damn Murdock!

Even so after the last few hours, his sense of humour was somewhat lacking and he was still feeling fragile enough to let his temper get the better of him. He figured Murdock was fair game after he was the one who had told him about his supposed baldness, earlier. "Of course," he turned back to regard the pilot icily. "You've been losing your hair for a while now, so a little razor cut here wouldn't matter a damn to you. I, on the other hand, am different! My hair is …. priceless!"

"Losing my hair!" Murdock cried indignantly. "I should have…"

"Enough!" Hannibal hissed from the other side of the plane. He stood up and moved closer now the seat belt signs had flicked off. "Just cos you've got a headache, Face, why the hell are you so intent on giving the rest of us one? You deserve everything you've got, so quit it!"

BA snored softly in agreement.

Peck sat back in his seat and took a deep breath, the Colonel's words ringing in his ears. He was being a fool, even he could see that. "I'm sorry, guys," he said suddenly, changing his mood from arrogant to contrite in a moment. "I shouldn't have done it."

Hannibal nodded. "You put us all at risk, when you gonna learn?"

"He's just a guy who can't say no!" Murdock sang in a high pitched voice, ignoring the disapproving looks of the other passengers.

Peck snorted. "Makes a change from Evita," he muttered. Since they'd landed in Latin American, Murdock had been singing 'Don't Cry for Me, Argentina,' almost constantly and, although BA had threatened him frequently, the pilot had ignored him and simply sung even louder.

Smith smiled and sucked on his unlit cigar. "I could say I told you so, Face, but I've said it before and it doesn't do any good. You see a pretty lady and all the blood rushes away from your head!"

"I know and I'm sorry, Hannibal. It won't happen again."

Hannibal chuckled. "And you say it with such conviction, kid, like you really believe it, don't you?"

"I mean it this time, honestly," Face's eyes were wide.

Smith smiled. "We'll see, kid, we'll see. Luckily enough this time there was no lasting harm done. Apart from your head we got out of there in tact. Now get some rest, you've had a tough couple of days and as this plane is going to Frisco, I need you fit enough to find us transport back to LA."

"A con man's work is never done," Peck muttered cynically. "Even if it does mean chatting up the girl, eh, Colonel?"

"Admit it, Face, you love the challenge!" Smith's eyes twinkled with mischief.

Face snorted. "Like I get a choice!"

"We couldn't do it without you, kid!"

* * *

TBC 


	2. Chapter 2: A Hole in the Plan

**THE MULE KICKS BACK**

**Part Two: **

**A Hole in the Plan**

"Hurry up, Face!"

Peck let out a long sigh. "Sheer artistry takes time, Colonel," he muttered through clenched teeth, his eyes never once moving away from the safety deposit box on the rickety table in front of him. Into its lock he twisted and wiggled his pick violently and with more than a hint of desperation.

"Haven't got time!" Murdock interjected as he rushed into the small room, gun in hand. "Bad guys coming down the corridor, Colonel. We gotta move now."

"Face!" Hannibal pressed urgently.

"Just a little more …." Face hissed.

The sudden staccato rhythm of gun fire spat into the quiet expectation of the room and preceded BA Baracus' entrance by only a few seconds. "Suckers coming in the back," he growled.

"And the front," Murdock added.

"Which means we got no way out, Hannibal!" BA finished.

Smith rolled his eyes. "Exciting isn't it?" he beamed.

"No!" BA snorted. "We trapped."

"Done it!" Face exclaimed as the box clicked open.

"Too slow, Face," Murdock shook his head critically. "You're losing your touch."

Peck threw him a withering glare but then turned his attention back to the box.

"What's in there, Face?" the pilot asked.

Peck looked up again. This time his perfect features were crumpled in confusion. "Nothing," he said. "Not a damn thing!"

"But…." Murdock began.

"What do you mean, nothing?" BA growled over him, glancing back up the corridor. "What we doing here, man?"

"Damned if I know," Face muttered.

His eyes still flashing brightly in the dim light, Hannibal chuckled, "I think we're about to find out."

It had been a long day already, since they started to enact Smith's latest plan. It was just over a week since their return from Argentina and they had started this case almost immediately.

An elderly couple, the Watsons, had sought out Mr Lee complaining that a wealthy store owner was pressurising them to sell their home to him so he could build a new retail complex in the area. The Team had checked the couple out in the usual ways and everything appeared to be above board. They had found out the name of the businessman was JB Rees.

Today's escapade had been the result of Mr Watson informing them that he thought the plans for the new shopping centre were being held in a safety deposit box and Rees was going to pick them up this morning but Watson did not know where. Hannibal had been a little suspicious about the information but he had no reason to doubt the client and the plans would be useful to have.

They had intercepted Rees' hired limo and Face had taken on the role of driver, persuading Mr Rees that his regular driver had been taken ill. In preparation and after much whining Face had swallowed a tracker so that the rest of the Team could follow at a safe distance. Much to Peck's growing impatience Rees had made him drive around aimlessly for most of the day and it was well passed five o'clock by the time Rees gave him the instructions he had been waiting for. On arrival at the storage facility on the outskirts of town, Face had overpowered Rees and left him tied up in the limo. The rest of the Team had arrived and Face had talked their way in, gotten the box number from the guy at reception but not the key, so had had to break in to the box and use up precious time. It was only once they were inside with Murdock stationed at the front and BA out back that they had begun to realise all was not as it seemed.

"Throw out your weapons, now!" Came an authoritative voice from outside in the corridor.

The Team exchanged glances. Supremely confident, the Colonel smiled around his cigar. "Guess we won't find out until we do as the guy says, boys."

"It was a stupid plan," BA growled. "Why are we all in here anyway?"

"I'm hurt, BA," Smith retorted as he carefully dropped his M16 out into the corridor so it slewed out of reach. "It's a brilliant plan!"

"Brilliant!" Peck scoffed. "It's got holes in it as big as the Grand Canyon!" Still in his black chauffeur suit, with the hat pushed back on his head, he didn't have a gun to throw out so he simply fiddled with his tie nervously.

"There are holes in the information that we have, Lieutenant," Smith countered. "And the only way to fill them is to flush out the vermin that's making them!"

Face just rolled his eyes in exasperation and looked over to Murdock who was standing pensively by the door. "Here they come," the pilot warned.

Into the already cramped little room came six large, muscled men. Each wore a black suit, touted an automatic machine gun and a scowl to match their close cropped hair while hiding their eyes behind the cowardly anonymity of dark sun glasses.

Hannibal snorted dismissively. "Whatever happened to villains with individuality?" he espoused philosophically.

The suits with sun glasses filed around the room, guns pointing forebodingly at each member of the Team.

"Gentleman," a sleazy nasal voice came from the doorway. It belonged to a shorter, weasel-like man with a narrow pallid face emphasised by his own pair of large framed sun glasses that he sported. He wore a similar suit to the others but on his gangly and awkward frame it looked badly cut and creased out of shape. Apparently unaware of the less than inspiring figure he cut, the newcomer continued, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Smith sniffed insolently. "I know."

"I am Cuthbert Grondyke and you must be the A Team."

The Colonel's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What do you want?"

Grondyke chuckled and the sound was one of the least endearing that Smith had ever heard. "What no small talk, Colonel?" he teased. "Cut straight to the point, eh?"

Smith curled up his upper lip in disgust. "I make it a habit only to rap with people when I can see their eyes," he said. "What's wrong – do you think I'll see the fear there?"

Grondyke seemed to hesitate, and then a slimy smile crossed his lips. "Very well; I don't have time to make friends, anyway. Stand together by the wall," he indicated to a point by the far wall and the sun glasses moved to push the Team there.

"Careful," Face whined, as a particularly big goon took hold of his arm. "I bruise easy!"

"Mr Rees!" Grondyke called.

Into the room came the businessman. Face groaned as he realised he had not succeeded in putting him out of the game earlier. To add to his woe Murdock intoned solemnly. "Sloppy, Faceman, very sloppy."

Rees was carrying a strange machine that seemed to be some sort of measuring device, like a Geiger counter. On its top was a series of green lights and a large dial, while attached to its side by a wire was a form of scanner device. It was emitting a dull humming sound.

"Do it!" Grondyke ordered.

Rees nodded and turned the dial so the lights began to flash and there was an audible increase in the volume of the noise. He stepped forward and pointed the scanner towards Colonel Smith. Hannibal stared at him, his features set in an indifferent glare. There was no change to the lights or the noise.

Rees licked his lips nervously and moved to stand in front of BA. The big guy growled menacingly. Two pairs of sun glasses and matching suits hovered close to restrain him if necessary. BA clenched his fists but Rees lifted the scanner regardless – the machine continued with the same pattern.

Next Rees pointed the scanner at Murdock. The pilot immediately let out a long, high pitched squeal and began to shiver violently. The machine, however, continued on the same behaviour mode as previously.

"Quit it, fool!" BA snarled.

Murdock stopped instantly. "You know how I get nervous when somebody points something at me, BA!"

Rees shook his head and moved on to Peck, the last in line. As soon as the machine scanner turned towards him the lights changed to red and began to flash; the sound ratcheted up a good number of octaves that could easily be described as ear piercing.

"Jackpot!" Murdock whistled through his teeth.

"Why is it always me?" Face asked forlornly.

"Your magnetic personality?" Hannibal suggested with a wink.

"Cuff him!" Grondyke ordered.

"Ow!" Peck whined as the two goons nearest to him took a hold and pulled his arms out roughly. "Hey, watch my suit! My tailor wouldn't like it if…." He was stopped in full moan mode by an unexpected and exceedingly vicious fist to his jaw which sent him down to his knees, head lowered and spitting out blood.

At that moment the rest of the Team surged forwards. BA took on the nearest two goons to him, his gold rattling as he moved. Murdock and Hannibal waded in too but not soon enough to get to Peck, who was being lifted to his groggy feet by the goons.

"Take him!" Grondyke ordered.

He followed them out with Rees at his heels. "Kill them!" he ordered over his shoulder to the rest of the goons.

Face was still stunned by the power of the blow – he normally got a lot further into his rant before the patience of his target ran out. The result, this time, was he had been taken by surprise and been unable to mitigate for the blow as he normally would have, thus his jaw was throbbing horrendously. He was dragged up the corridor, his hazy eyesight was further hindered as they stepped out into the fading but still brighter than inside evening sunlight. The open trunk of a big Cadillac beckoned.

"No!" Face managed to gasp, trying to turn in the constricting arms. "I get car sick!"

His whine fell on deaf ears as he was forced into the trunk and everything went black as the lid was thrown down with a ominous thump.

Back at the fight the rest of the Team though outnumbered, were struggling manfully and at last appeared to be gaining the upper hand. BA landed a bejewelled right hook to the face of the last goon and he fell limply to the floor.

"Where's Face?" Murdock asked.

"They got him," Hannibal responded. "You both OK?"

Murdock nodded as BA flexed his fingers, banging his fist into his other hand menacingly. "Be better when we get Faceman back," he growled.

"It's getting late – be going dark, let's get back to the van," Hannibal commanded as he bent down to pick up his gun.

Once there, Hannibal took a long draw on his cigar. "So what we got?" he asked.

"Tracker coming through loud and strong, Colonel," Murdock reported, the receiver gripped tightly in his hand. "Like a buzzy little bee leading us straight to his buzzy little hive!"

"OK, keep on it, BA," Hannibal said.

"Why'd they take Face, Hannibal?" Murdock asked. "They knew he had a bug, surely?"

Hannibal nodded. "Makes you think they want us to follow doesn't it?"

"A trap?" put in BA.

"Decker?" the pilot said.

"But why?" Hannibal mused. "They had us all together, why take only Face and want us to follow? Unless…. Unless…"

"Unless what, Colonel?"

"They didn't want us, only Face and they don't know about the bug."

"But that scanner, it showed it up," Murdock replied.

"Did it, Captain? It showed up something but how do you know that's what they were looking for?"

"But if not the bug, what, man?" BA asked.

Hannibal let out a deep sigh. "I wish I knew, BA. I wish I knew."

* * *

Face lay in the trunk of the car. Thankfully they seemed to have progressed over the bumpy road of the industrial site which had caused Face's spine to bang against the spare wheel painfully. He took in a deep breath, wrinkling his nose at the smell of engine oil and sweaty shoes. He shifted position and managed to move off the pair of smelly sneakers that he had been lying on.

"Jesus!" he muttered. "Some people just have no conception of style!" He pushed the shoes as far away from him as his handcuffed hands would allow.

He closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe in deeply. It had been a difficult week, what with the Argentina trip and getting into this case so soon. At least his head wound was almost mended with little damage to his hair style. For a moment he enjoyed the relaxation but he knew it wouldn't last. Hannibal would not be far behind. The Colonel would be working on a plan to get to him but it didn't do to simply lay there and wait for rescue particularly as he was getting hotter in the claustrophobic confines of the trunk. It shouldn't be airtight surely – but he really should try something himself.

He rolled over thanking God that it was a big trunk! He hitched his feet until they were close to the tail lights and he proceeded to kick the cluster out. Fresher air came in and Face moved position again to get his head as close as possible to the hole. He tried to see out, to get an idea of where they were going but they were moving at such speed that everything flashed by – they must be on the freeway at least.

He sighed, wandering what the hell was going on. If he couldn't get out, he would have to think of something else. It just didn't make sense; why had they taken him? The same discussion that the rest of the Team were having in the van swirled around Face's head in a series of thoughts. He came to a similar conclusion: it just did not make sense!

So, if he couldn't get away and he couldn't work out what they wanted, there was only one other thing for him to do and that was to be patient and wait. He had been in a similar situation to this so many times that he wasn't particularly worried. Experience had taught him that an opportunity would come up, all he had to do was wait, guard his strength and make sure that he took full advantage when the time came.

Still he was taken by surprise; the now gentle rocking of the car was quite soporific and he had missed out on some sleep recently, when the trunk was opened and the evening sunlight was strong enough to momentarily blind him. Brawny but rough hands grabbed him and pulled him upwards while he was still blinking the glare from his retinas.

"Jesus! Look what the little shit did to my tail lights!" A gruff voice spat. "I'll….."

"No, not yet," An authoritative voice came – Grondyke.

Peck was forced to sit down and, as his sight came back to him, he thought he really ought to press his point home. "Look guys, you got the wrong person! I'm not who you think I am. I mean all right I set off your bleeper but it must have been my pacemaker. I got a terrible weak heart and all this excitement .. I could keel over at any minute. I'm really quite fragile."

Grondyke bent close to him. "Shut up!" he spat. "It's not important anymore whether you're dead or alive."

Peck pouted. "Not to you, maybe."

"Let's get on with this!" Grondyke ordered. "Why do I always get the ones with the smart mouths?" he muttered as he turned away.

Face felt a push from behind and realised that he must be sitting in a wheel chair. He tired to stand up but the barrel of a gun was pressed into the back of his neck.

"I don't know what you…." He began.

"One more word," Grondyke spat. "Just one more and I will blow you away!"

Peck gulped, he looked at the man next to him, sizing him up. Noting the tenseness in his body, the muscle flicking impatiently at his chin; Grondyke was close to the edge, barely holding on to his control. Peck knew he could get a further reaction if he tried but what would that response be? Too much and even the slightest push could be fatal, so Peck decided to button it, at least until he had a better feel for what was gong on.

"Quickly!" Grondyke pressed. "I want this over with."

They approached a large building and entered through automatic doors, heading straight for the elevator. Face noted the uniforms of the staff rushing past – they were in a hospital. He smiled at the pretty, young nurse who inadvertently stepped into the elevator behind them as the door closed. Instantly he felt the gun pushed deeper into his back.

Ignoring the gesture he rolled his eyes and gave the nurse his most startling smile to which the nurse responded with a wide grin. She was blonde and young and sort of shy but she giggled and seemed thrilled by his attention. Peck lifted his hands a little, noting the nurse's eyes widen as they fell on his handcuffs. Face contemplated his next move, not wanting to put this pretty girl in danger but desperately hoping to find a way to alert her of his predicament.

Too quickly the doors opened and Face was pushed out into an empty corridor. Grondyke threw a challenging stare at Peck as the doors clicked shut behind them, leaving the nurse to continue her journey alone.

"What?" Face said, the picture of innocence. "A smile costs nothing!"

Grondyke shook his head. "Keep it up, wise guy," he muttered. "Just keep it up."

"Look, like I said before," Peck decided to try again. "You got the wrong guy. Hell, I haven't got any medical insurance so I'd never afford treatment in a place like this… if there was anything wrong with me, which there isn't!"

"What about your heart condition?" Grondyke questioned, his eyes sparking at his own quick wit.

"Oh, I live with it, you know!" Peck replied seamlessly changing his argument when his words of minutes before were thrown back at him.

They were moving down a brightly lit corridor, through a number of doors and then into a large room that smelt of cleanliness and antiseptic.

Peck gulped – his internal alarm bells had been increasing in volume and he really did not like what he was seeing. As if to emphasise his disquiet, the gun was pushed into his back again.

"Get on the bed," Grondyke ordered.

"Look, I don't think….."

"Put him on the bed!" Grondyke's brittle patience snapped.

Peck fought as the goons grabbed him, but his hands were still restrained and he knew it was going to be ultimately useless. Eventually he found himself sprawled on the operating table, his cuffs taken off but the two goons holding his hands brutally above his head.

Face strained to see what was going on. It appeared that a number of other people had entered the room; they were dressed in theatre blues, their features hidden behind masks. A surge of panic washed through Peck then and he began to struggle violently.

Grondyke was beside him. "That's better," he mocked. "Now you're beginning to get an idea of what's in store for you, smart ass!"

"What are you going to do?" Face demanded, unable to free himself from the goons' tight grip.

"You got something of ours," Grondyke said. "We're going to take it back."

"I haven't got anything of yours!"

Grondyke smiled evilly and reaching out his skeletal fingers, took hold of Peck's chin and turned his head. He stroked the area behind his ear where the almost healed wound was. "But you have, asshole!" he said. "How does it feel, a member of the famous A Team duped into being our mule? How does it feel to be conned?"

"What?" Face gasped. "I don't…."

A gowned figure loomed up before him and his right arm was pulled out straight. Face watched mesmerised, his bowels freezing as the figure raised the hypodermic needle. "No," he gasped and tried to struggle but he was held fast.

He watched completely helpless as the needle was forced into his arm and the drug was injected into him.

"Have a rest," Grondyke said. "It'll all be over with very soon."

"No," Face repeated, trying to hold on to his wits as they slipped and slithered relentlessly into oblivion. He gulped and blinked as he felt his arms released. Now was his chance! He wanted to run, to get out; his mind was screaming at him to move but he could not respond, could not even lift his head.

Fighting it desperately he grasped out blindly trying to force his deadening limbs into action. Clutching hold of Grondyke's arm he was vaguely aware of a ripping. Face glanced down as the blackness loitered threatening at the edge of his vision, saw something revealed by the ripping of that awful suit sleeve…. a tattoo on Grondyke's arm …. Peck recognised it but the foggy haze engulfed him, chasing away the imprint of the memory. He collapsed back to the bed.

His very last sense was the noise of a razor. "Not my hair," he tried to say but his mouth would not move and his brain ceased to function. He could not stop his eyes from rolling upwards into his head, he was letting go as the nothingness claimed him as one of its own.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3: A Stitch in Time

**THE MULE KICKS BACK**

**Part Three: **

**A Stitch in Time**

Bang!

After following the tracker signal Hannibal, BA and Murdock smashed into the Operating Room, with guns ready and adrenaline pumping, to be met with an extremely bizarre sight.

Face lay flat on his back on the operating table, obviously completely out of it. His head was on its side and a bleeding wound was very evident behind his ear in almost exactly the same place as his previous wound although it was slightly covered by a dollop of once white but now scarlet cotton wool. The pad was being dabbed in the blood by a pale faced and anxious blonde nurse whose eyes were flashing their panic and who let out a terrified scream as the Team entered.

"Please!" she howled, tears forming in her eyes and rolling down over her beautifully chiselled cheek bones. "Don't hurt me!"

Hannibal flicked his head to indicate to the other two Team members that they should secure the area. Guns still very much at the ready they rushed to do so. The Colonel, on the other hand, lowered his M16 and moved to the centre of the room.

The poor girl was petrified, shaking visibly as she tried to shrink away from him. "Don't come any nearer and don't touch him – you've done enough already!" she said bravely.

"Calm down, lady," Hannibal soothed as he moved to the other side of the bed. "How is he?"

The nurse stuttered, wondering whether she should hold her ground but aware that these guys had guns – and big ones at that. "I dunno…." she ventured slowly.

Hannibal gently turned Face's head toward him, placed his fingers around the delicate hand that was still resolutely holding the pad over the wound and lifted both away gently.

"Lot of blood," he muttered as a spring of scarlet seemed to surge up into the hole that was the wound. "What happened?" He looked up; saw the name badge on the nurse's still frantically heaving, and to Hannibal's appreciative eyes, rather attractive, breasts. "Chrissie, is it?"

The nurse nodded. "I thought you would tell me," she snapped back gravitating between absolutely terrified and bravely indignant, all the time just wishing that the fearful quiver in her voice was not quite so obvious.

"Nurse," Hannibal's voice was laced with patience. "We only just got here." He placed the absorbent pad back down onto Face's head. "Murdock," he called over his shoulder. "Watch Face. I need to talk to the lady."

Murdock nodded, slung his gun on the strap over his shoulder and moved to take over the Colonel's position. Hannibal took hold gently but firmly of the nurse's arm and manoeuvred her to a chair by the sink in the corner of the room. It was a struggle for Chrissie to get her legs to work and, though she would never admit it, she was more than a little grateful for the strong supportive arms of the grey haired, bright eyed man beside her.

She shivered as she caught sight of the third man lurching towards them and the failing flicker of fear flared up in her chest once more causing her lungs to lurch in fright.

BA smiled. "It's OK, little sister," he said. His massive hand reached out to her with a plastic cup full of cool water. "Here, take a drink and relax." His eyes were incredibly kind and Chrissie forgot the rest of his frightening visage and smiled haltingly but sweetly, before taking a long, refreshing gulp.

Hannibal waited for the girl to recover her composure. "So Chrissie. That's my man there and we've come to rescue him not to do him more harm but we need to know what happened here. So, can you tell us what you know? Slowly, take your time."

Chrissie nodded, her hand unconsciously screwing at the hem of her dress nervously and squeezing it. She took a deep breath before starting. "I don't know. I wasn't here. I just thought it was strange, at this time of the evening for somebody to be getting out at Floor 13."

"Strange or unlucky?" Murdock put in from behind them. "Unlucky for Face, obviously."

"I mean, I knew there were no operating sessions scheduled," Chrissie continued her words quickening in pace as if now she had started she had to finish as soon as possible. "They don't do elective surgery at this time and he didn't look ill enough to be an emergency case and then there were the handcuffs and he was so cute!"

Hannibal laid a gloved hand on to her knee and she hesitated. "Where did you see him, Chrissie?"

"In the elevator. He smiled at me and it was so sweet and I thought he was trying to tell me something but I was late and Nurse Morrow is on shift tonight and she's after me already for something that happened last week that wasn't my fault, well not really. So I couldn't hang around. I should have done something straight away but then she gave me bed pan cleaning and put me down for last break, I was kinda busy." Hannibal nodded, concentrating hard to get the message as the words continued to tumble out. "But I kept thinking about it, about him, and something just wasn't right. Anyway when she finally let me take my break I came down here and saw this. He was lying alone and there was so much blood…. I didn't know what to do …. I…" Tears welled into her eyes again and she began to shake.

"You did really well, Chrissie," Hannibal said softly, reaching out towards her. The young nurse hesitated and then accepted the embrace with a sad sniff.

"Christ!" she cursed, suddenly pulling away and sitting bolt upright. "What time is it? I only got thirty minutes break – Nurse Morrow is gonna kill me!"

"Calm down, sweet cheeks," Hannibal soothed. "Did you see anyone here, when you arrived?"

Chrissie shook her head and tried to stand up. "I gotta go!"

But the Colonel wasn't finished yet. "Easy, easy. If I promise to talk to your Nurse Morrow will you relax?"

"But what can you do?"

Hannibal rolled his eyes mischievously. "I have a way with Senior Nurses. There was one in Nam – Major Parrott – had her eating out of my hand, believe me! You've done a very brave thing and maybe saved my man's life here. I am not going to allow anyone to bawl you out because of it."

"Colonel!" Murdock's call sent them all scurrying back to the bed. "I think he's coming round."

There was an accompanying moan from the figure on the bed. Face tried to open his eyes and his first sight was a beautiful blonde staring down at him with wide blue eyes misted with concern.

"Oh," he groaned. "An angel!" He managed a pained smile which froze on his face as Murdock pushed into his view. "Oh no!" he groaned. "What are you doing here?"

"Saving you, Faceman!" Murdock pouted.

Face snorted with indignation. "I like the other saviour best," he moaned as his eyes went back to the pretty face still hovering above him.

"How you doing, Lieutenant?" Hannibal's voice came from behind the angel.

Peck tried to sit up. "Ow, my head… not again!" he bleated pathetically, falling backwards.

"It's another hole," Murdock confirmed, peering into Peck's wound. "And yes! I can confirm," he switched to his TV commentator voice, "They tried it once before and failed but this time they have been successful! Yes folks, it is official! Templeton Peck's brain is missing! Last time the hole wasn't big enough – it's amazing what that extra half inch can do!"

"Murdock!" Face whined, flailing his arms about in a wasted effort to push the pilot away.

"Don't fear, oh brainless, Faceman!" Murdock stepped away just a little. "It must be here somewhere." He started to look around and bent to investigate beneath the bed. "If I could just find it and maybe stuff it back in … then nobody need know." He moved back and took hold of Face's hand. "It'll be our little secret!"

"Shut up, fool!" BA intoned.

Face pulled his hand dejectedly away. "Hannibal, stop him, please!"

The Colonel managed to wipe the indulgent smirk from his lips by clearing his throat loudly when he saw Face's pleading eyes come up to his. "Go look over there, Murdock," he instructed and then moved into the space the pilot had vacated.

Face threw him an exasperated look and then, proving he was really unaffected by the whole banter experience, turned his attention back to the nurse on his other side. "Hi," he managed weakly. "Have we met?"

"Hi," Chrissie responded with a genuinely thrilled smile. "In the elevator earlier. Are you OK?"

Face tried to shrug but it hurt so he just assumed a pained but brave expression. "I think I may survive," he groaned.

"I think we'll have to stitch you up, Lieutenant," Hannibal said. "Will you do the honours, nurse?"

Chrissie gulped and an attractive blush bloomed across her cheeks. "Ah, I don't do stitching," she disclosed sheepishly. "I'm not actually a nurse, well not yet. Just an auxiliary. I don't do much except clean bed pans but I hope to qualify, one day."

Hannibal sighed and glanced around the room. "Looks like I'll have to do it then."

"Awh, Hannibal," Face whined. "You're never gentle!"

The Colonel guffawed. "Where's your courage, Face? BA watch the doors. Murdock…. Murdock?"

The pilot was on his knees reaching beneath a sterile, stainless steel cabinet. "I think I see it, Colonel. If I could just….."

"Later, Captain!" Hannibal replied. "We need to stitch Face up now. You know; a stitch in time!"

Murdock climbed back to his feet, his face horrified. "But if we stitch him up where will we put his brain?"

"Murdock!" Face snorted in disbelief.

Hannibal chuckled and moved to put his hand around Murdock's shoulders, turning him away from the curious Peck who was straining to hear. The Colonel whispered, "Between you and me, Captain, Faceman's brain has actually been redundant for some time."

"No!" Murdock hissed doubtfully.

"It's true. Think about it; all he does is smile and talk. And you know as well as I do that his mouth has a mind of its own. So, we can close him up and believe me, nobody, not even you, will notice the difference. Are you with me, Captain?"

Murdock threw a glance over his shoulder. "Remarkable!" he muttered and then turned back to the Colonel. "If you say so, Sir!"

Hannibal beamed and patted his back. "Good man. Get me the equipment then, please."

"What did you say to him?" Face demanded as the Colonel returned to his side.

"Nothing important, kid," Hannibal said dismissively but Murdock let out a horrific chuckle and rubbed his hands together like a character from a B horror movie.

"Hannibal!" Face repeated, shrinking away from the advancing pilot.

"It'll be like Frankenstein all over again!" Murdock cackled in his best Boris Karloff voice. "You will be invincible, my child!"

"Hannibal!"

The Colonel grinned. "Murdock- focus!" he ordered and the pilot hesitated, nodded slowly and turned away to find a needle and thread.

Face gulped. "Colonel, I ….."

"Relax, Face," Hannibal soothed. "It's going to be fine!"

Murdock laughed horrifically and threw a hungry glance over his shoulder. "Why's he looking at me like that?" Face whined.

The Colonel sighed. "Come on, let's get this finished. Chrissie, would you soothe the patient?"

The young nurse, who had watched the preceding interaction with a growing sense of disbelief nodded and took hold of Peck's hand. Face looked up at her and smiled, his disquiet forgotten by the sparkle in the girl's eye. She was definitely giving him the look!

"Will you think any less of me if I scream?" he asked.

Chrissie looked genuinely concerned. "I think you've been very brave, so far," she ventured nervously.

Face nodded, assuming his pained but courageous expression again. "Maybe there is one thing that can get me through this," he murmured.

"What?" she asked naively.

BA shook his head as he stood at the doorway. He had heard all of the conman's lines too many times before and he marvelled at the simplicity of this girl.

Face was aware of it too, of course, but like the experienced flirt he was, he moved in for the pay off. "I need something to hold on to …. Something to live for…." Face continued weakly, his eyes downcast. He gulped and lifted them to meet Chrissie's sympathetically innocent ones. "Maybe you can help."

"Me?"

"You're a beautiful lady. Maybe... the thought of you… no, you couldn't!"

"Couldn't what?"

"Well, the promise of a date, dinner, candlelight…. Maybe that would give me the hope I need, the strength to carry on."

"A date with me?"

Face nodded, solemnly hopeful. Behind her Hannibal shook his head in silent admiration.

"It would help you through the pain?" Chrissie continued, seemingly completely taken in.

"Definitely!"

She smiled shyly and bent forwards to peck him on the cheek. "It's the least I can do!"

Murdock strode up. In his TV voice again he proclaimed, "Hello and welcome viewers! Here we are at the Brainless Dating Agency. Our courageous hero, Templeton Peck, although suffering from the slight setback of losing his brain, has indeed triumphed over adversity, sorted out his priorities and got himself a date. Viewers out there in TV-land, I have to tell you it is true! The Faceman needs no brain to do what he does – his mouth is capable of anything!"

"Murdock!" Face snorted.

"That's enough guys!" Hannibal bit back his laughter and assumed leader mode. He took hold of the needle Murdock proffered. "Let's get this wound sorted."

"Hannibal, I…." Face began.

"Enough, already, kid," Hannibal cut him off and holding his Lieutenant's head firmly, he began the procedure.

Chrissie smiled encouragingly at Peck as he lay bravely on the bed. He bit his lip at the pain and tears sprang into his eyes.

With a skill that comes only from much practise, Hannibal inserted four stitches into the wound to close it. Then he waited. Murdock threw him a curious glance and then smiled sharing in the conspiracy as he realised what the Colonel was doing. Face still lay on the bed, tense as hell and whimpering feebly.

"All done, Lieutenant!" Hannibal said finally after a delay of a few minutes.

Face let out a long sigh of relief and Chrissie hooted with triumph and threw herself into his all-too-welcoming arms.

"Not soon enough!" BA said as he came back into the room from the corridor beyond. "Just saw out the window, Decker and his goons pull up."

"Decker!" Murdock gasped suddenly in sensible mode.

Hannibal chuckled. "Well, who told him, I wonder," he mused. "OK, let's move! Murdock, BA get Face on a trolley and take him down the back elevator – you're going to the morgue, if anybody asks. Chrissie, you're coming with me to see Nurse Morrow."

"We don't have time for that, Hannibal!" BA spat.

"Some people seem to have more time than others," Murdock put in. "No brains but plenty of time!"

BA and the Colonel turned to see Face and Chrissie still deeply entwined in an apparently everlasting kiss.

"Put her down, Lieutenant. Lieutenant!" Hannibal called.

There was no reaction so the Colonel was forced to firmly pull the pair apart. He pointed at Face. "You – morgue!" He took hold of Chrissie's hand. "You – with me. Now move it!"

"But Colonel…."

"No time, Faceyman," Murdock pushed a gurney over and he and BA helped to move a less than compliant Face on to it. He then covered him over with a white sheet.

Face pulled the blanket off his head. "Murdock, I …."

The pilot pushed him back and re-covered him. Face came up for a second try but this time BA growled and firmly pushed him back, where Peck stayed this time, but he could be heard distinctly grumbling under the sheet.

"What are you going to do?" Chrissie asked. The flush on her cheeks seemed to have intensified following the kiss.

The Colonel's eyes shone. "Have you ever heard of that famous practitioner of Emergency Medicine Dr Arkansas Armitage?"

Chrissie shook her head blankly. "No."

"Well you should have as you've just helped him perform a most delicate procedure and we saved the patient!"

"I did?" Chrissie looked confused. "We did?"

Hannibal nodded. "Come on; I have to sing your praises to Nurse Morrow."

BA and Murdock pushed the gurney past them at that point. Chrissie let out a wistful sigh. "Will I ever see him again?" she asked. "He was so cute and brave and such a good kisser!"

"Wasn't he just?" Smith sounded less than convinced.

"And in such pain!" Chrissie said with a knowing smile.

Hannibal stared at her then with new interest, sensing a depth to her he had not noticed in her panicked state of earlier. "Do I take it you weren't exactly taken in by my Lieutenant's performance?" he asked.

The young woman's smile was even wider. "Who wouldn't be taken in when a guy like that asks you out?"

Hannibal shook his head and smiled. "You promised him dinner, kid. Now, I'm not saying Face is easy but I'd put money on him turning up – it's what he does best. Now come on; we haven't got much time!"

* * *

TBC 


	4. Chapter 4: A Light in the Darkness

**THE MULE KICKS BACK**

**Part Four: **

**A Light in the Darkness**

"Just what the hell is going on, Hannibal?" Face asked, his voice was strained by tiredness and vexation.

"I was rather hoping you could tell us, Face!" The Colonel responded as he eased himself to a comfortable position in his seat.

He had just leapt through the open door of the van, after running the gauntlet past Decker's men from the main hospital entrance. BA gunned the engine and they had sped away in a cloud of rubber before the MPs could get to their vehicles to follow them.

Hannibal, eyes twinkling with mischief, deftly unwrapped a cigar. "Chrissie sends her love, by the way," he continued. "Says you are the bravest man she ever met."

Face perked up a little at that; he preened himself shamelessly. "Really?"

The Colonel nodded. "I don't have to ask whether your intentions are honourable do I, Lieutenant? She seems a nice kid and I don't want to see her hurt."

"Colonel, you know me!" Peck retorted with a piqued expression.

"That what he afraid of, Faceman!" BA chuckled.

"She seems an incredibly bad judge of character and a trifle naive," Murdock added somewhat pompously from his place behind the driver. Hannibal chuckled significantly but said nothing.

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Face snapped, his eyes flashing resentfully.

"Well, you're not always the most honest of men are you, Face?" Hannibal said.

"I don't know what you mean!" Face was suddenly the embodiment of affronted honour.

"Well," the Colonel pretended to muse on the point. "How about your performance of earlier? Do you really think that you conned any of us?"

"My performance?" Face spluttered.

"Uh-huh, all that brave biting of lips and gnashing of teeth, the tears in your eyes when the area I was stitching was obviously still anesthetised from your earlier experience!"

"It was not!"

"It most definitely was – admit it Face, you didn't feel a thing and yet, strangely, you were still groaning in pain five minutes after I'd finished stitching!"

BA chuckled and Murdock shook his head meaningfully.

"I was not!" Face argued indignantly.

"See, it's cos you have no brain, Facey. You feel no pain!" the ever helpful Murdock put in.

Face let out a frustrated snort. "Quit it with that having no brain stuff. You make me feel like I'm something from the Wizard of Oz!"

Murdock clapped his hands with glee. "That's right!" he beamed. "It was the lion, wasn't it?"

Face groaned lamentably. "Why do I put these ideas in his head?" he muttered. "There's enough garbage in there without me adding to it!"

"No, fool!" BA retorted. "Was the tin man, man!"

Hannibal let out a mouthful of smoke, thoroughly enjoying himself at his Lieutenant's expense. "Guys, I think you'll find it was the scarecrow!"

"What does it matter!" Face said, shaking his head in dejected despair.

Murdock smiled and winked knowingly. "It's OK, Faceguy. Your secret's safe with me!"

"Secret?" Face gasped. "What secret? Hannibal, what did you tell him back there?"

"Nothing, Face." His smile faded. "Come on we need to get serious and think this through. What do you remember, kid?"

Face snorted. "I …. eh ….I … not much really. That Grondyke guy was there."

"And?" Hannibal pressed.

Face shook his head. "It's all hazy. I can't …. Wait a minute," he leaned forward. "Did they shave my head?" His features twisted in acute misery.

Hannibal threw his eyes skyward in mock irritation.

"Don't worry, Face." Murdock said sweetly. "No brain, no hair – what's the difference? I like the Kojak look anyway! Want a lollipop?"

"Hannibal!" Face was pretty close to losing his cool. "I've been hit on the head, kidnapped, locked in the trunk of a car, operated on – I don't feel too good and," he threw a spiteful glance at Murdock. "He's going way too far!"

Murdock bit his lip. "See the Faceman with a brain; he never lost his temper at me. He laughed at my jokes." He looked across to the Colonel. "I reckon his sense of humour must have been in his brain. You promised Hannibal, that I wouldn't see a difference!"

"You promised him!" Face threw his arms in the air in a gesture of abject defeat and capitulation.

"Face," Hannibal's voice of reason instantly calmed the rapidly degenerating atmosphere in the van. "You got all your hair and your brain, honestly!"

Murdock threw the Colonel a huge wink. "Yes, of course you have, Face!" He said in a phenomenally loud stage whisper.

"Oh, I feel so relieved now," Face spat caustically.

Hannibal turned to the pilot. "Captain, Face has had a bad day – he's only managed to chat up one girl and get one date, so give him a little room, a little consideration, please."

"But …."

"No, Captain. I must be firm. I know you only want the best for him but we do have to be patient on this!"

"Oh for god's sake!" Peck snarled, shaking his head but stopping as a severe pain radiating from the wound in his head and accompanied by a wave of nausea rushed through him – the anaesthetic must be wearing off! He let out a pained gasp followed by a series of noisy and ragged intakes of air.

Hannibal noted the authenticity of this groan compared with the others Face had uttered through the day. BA too sensed the difference. "Where to, Colonel?" he asked.

"I reckon we need to regroup BA. Pull into one of the motels up here. We'll get a couple of rooms and then see what our Lieutenant can remember." He looked over his shoulder to see Face looking distinctly pale and weak, slumped slightly in his seat. "Better make that quick, BA. I think Face's drugs are wearing off!"

Murdock snapped his fingers. "That's it –the bad temper, the strange behaviour; it must be the drugs!"

Peck groaned. "Of course it is, Murdock," he responded feebly, just before he threw up the contents of his stomach. The prefect end to a miserable day!

"Not in my van!" BA roared. But it was too late!

* * *

"Face, you awake?" Murdock peered into the dark motel room, screwing up his eyes to try to see in. "Face?"

There was a frail groan from the bed, so the pilot moved inwards. "Can I put a light on?" he asked. "You need a light in the darkness!"

Another moan which Murdock took to be in the affirmative; he clicked on the bathroom light as he passed and closed the door slightly so that it wasn't too bright. "How you doing, buddy?" He asked pulling up a chair and sitting down.

Face rolled over and groaned again. "Murdock, it was awful," he murmured.

"What?"

"The dream I just had." Peck raised himself up onto his elbows. Murdock noted he was still pale and drawn, his hair mused up after his sleep – certainly not the dapper conman the pilot had come to know. "I kept getting hit on the head, put to sleep, operated on …. It was just awful!"

Murdock sighed. "Eh, Face, that wasn't a dream."

Face lurched forward to grab hold of the pilot. "It wasn't?" he wailed, to be quickly followed by, "Owh – my head!" He fell back to the pillow groaning weakly.

"You still not feeling good?" Sometimes Murdock had a talent for stating the obvious.

"No," Face retorted bleakly, his tentative fingers going up to the big bandage on his head. "Why is it always me?" he asked.

"It's not always you, Face!" Murdock flashed his own still bandaged hand. "Anyway, cheer up. Can I get you anything?"

Face snorted. "Water, maybe," he responded dully. He looked around the dim room. "Where are the others?" he asked as the pilot disappeared into the bathroom to get him a drink.

"We just had a meal. Hannibal's gone for a shower. BA went to get his upholstery cleaned."

Face groaned. "Oh, I didn't, did I?" he asked horror-stricken and ignoring the cup Murdock offered him on his return. "I hoped that bit at least was a dream! How'd he take it?"

Murdock sighed. "Very well, considering."

"He did?" Face looked unconvinced. "Considering what?"

"Considering all you'd been through. He said he'd overlook it, at least until you were feeling more like yourself."

"Oh great – a stay of execution!" Face said sarcastically. "Now I have that hanging over me too. Did he give any hint of what he might do to me?"

Murdock shook his head. "Said it would give him time to think on it – he was quite cheerful considering the vomit on his seats!"

"Oh God! I hate it when he's happy!" Face groaned. He rolled away from Murdock and pulled the blanket over his head.

The pilot hesitated and then placed the water on the night stand. He reached over nervously to lay his hand on the other man's back. "Face," he began. "We need to talk."

"I don't wanna talk," Face's muffled voice came back. "All that happens is that you all have a go at me."

"But that's what I want to talk about, Face!" Murdock pleaded. "I want to apologise." He felt the conman stiffen beneath his hand. Then an even more unkempt Faceman emerged from under the blanket.

"You want to apologise to me?" he said incredulously. "Why?"

Murdock moved to perch on the bed. "Well," he began. "You have had it tough over the last couple of days and I don't think I've been as supportive as I could be. I mean all those jibes about….."

"Murdock, stop!" Face lifted his hands in a halting motion.

The pilot compiled, his face wrinkling in puzzlement, his mouth still open and his eyes asking why.

Face swivelled his hips and shifted to a more comfortable position in the bed, before continuing. "I don't need to hear this."

"What?" Murdock was still bewildered.

"You and me, HM, we don't need to apologise. We give as good as we get."

"But in the hospital and in the van, you were….."

"Doing what comes naturally, just like you, Murdock. I don't want you to wrap me up in cotton candy. I understand. You're very good at what you do and I have to fight back with all I got. That's the way it's always been and I don't want it to ever change."

Murdock pouted, eyes narrowing. "Was that a compliment?" he asked.

"Good God, no!" Face exclaimed. "I may have had a couple of bangs on the head, even lost my brain but I would never compliment you!"

The pilot's eyes narrowed. "Ah – so you admit you are deficient in a certain integral part of your anatomy that normally resides in your cranium, then?"

Peck snorted. "I admit no such thing!" he deadpanned with his best poker expression. "You'll get no admission from me!"

Murdock smiled. "I want you to know when BA does whatever he does to you for puking in his van, Face, I will be there to pick up the pieces."

Face nodded. "That's very reassuring, Murdock," he said. "But it does make a rather large assumption.

"Which is?"

"That there'll be pieces of me left to pick up!"

Murdock threw his arms around Face's shoulders in a short, sharp manly hug. "That's what I love about you, Face; your constant ability to see gloom and desolation in every situation."

Peck smiled enigmatically. "What can I say - it's a gift," he responded.

"So, you feeling better?" Murdock asked "I certainly am after getting that off my chest."

Face sighed and ran his hand through his hair gingerly. "I guess."

"You hungry?"

"No, water's good enough for now – I still feel a little fragile. What time is it, anyway?"

"Just past midnight, I think."

"Where did BA take the van, then?"

"All night car valet service down on Franklin," Murdock snorted. He hesitated, his attention seemingly taking by picking at the now grubby bandage around his hand.

"Something else on your mind, Murdock?" Face asked.

"You read me so well," Murdock replied eventually with a slight smile. "Actually there is… that nurse, Chrissie, you really gonna take her out?"

"That's what I do with beautiful women," Face confirmed. "Why?"

"Well, she's kind of …… not your type, if you know what I mean."

"She's beautiful and female; that's my type!" Face let out a lecherous chuckle.

"In your eyes anyone with a pulse and a come on smile is your type, Face!" Murdock reposted. "But she seems sort of pure and wholesome."

"What; you saying I've never had a virtuous woman before?"

"Name one," Murdock challenged.

"Oh, that's easy!"

"Go on then."

Face rolled his eyes and tried to think but it hurt his head. Finally he came up with an answer. "Lesley Bectall," he offered.

"Face – she became a nun!"

"How virtuous is that?"

Murdock shook his head. "I just think that Chrissie is a little vulnerable, a little inexperienced. Hell, she thinks you're the bravest man in the world – how naïve is that?"

"Very intuitive and perceptive, I would say," Face countered.

"You would!"

"Do I detect maybe a little interest from our lonely, sex-starved pilot on the Chrissie front?" Face probed teasingly.

"No! Of course not," Murdock snapped too quickly.

Face smiled smarmily. "Thought so!" he sighed. "Look Murdock, I don't want to fall out about this – I mean, we're pals aren't we? And we shouldn't let a girl come between us."

"And that's all she is to you, Face? Just a girl?"

"What do you want me to say, Murdock? I admit that I was feeling pretty stressed in that hospital and you know what I do in that situation."

"You flirt outrageously!" Murdock confirmed.

"Less of the outrageous, more of the polished and effective, if you don't mind!" Face interjected with a confident grin.

"Whatever!"

"She was kind of cute, though," Peck sighed at the memory. "And the way she kissed!"

Murdock sighed. "I just don't think she knows what she is letting herself in for with a 'full on Faceman'!"

Face preened shamelessly. "Few ladies do!" he grinned arrogantly. "But believe me, they remember afterwards." Murdock shook his head, so Face continued in a more demure tone. "But I do take account of what you said – I am a gentleman after all."

"After all what? No, don't answer that!"

"You're sure you're not interested in Chrissie? Because if you ….."

"No, I'll stick to my dog," Murdock said firmly shaking his head. "You remembering anything about earlier yet?"

"I suppose I do. Can get Hannibal so we can go through this – I lived it so I really don't want to go through it again more than once."

"Sure thing, buddy!" Murdock stood up and moved swiftly to the door. As he opened it he turned back. "Oh one other thing I meant to tell you."

"What?"

"I changed the name of my dog – he's not Billy anymore."

Face raised his eyebrows. "Really, what is he now?"

Murdock stepped out into the darkness. Over his shoulder he said, "Well, I got to thinking about the conversation in the van and I thought of a more appropriate name."

"Yeah, what?"

"Toto!" he cried.

The pillow that Face threw hit the exact spot where the pilot had been standing but he was already gone. As he passed the window Face could hear him whistling 'Follow the Yellow Brick Road'!

* * *

TBC 


	5. Chapter 5: A Cuckoo in the Nest

**THE MULE KICKS BACK**

**Part Five: **

**A Cuckoo in the Nest**

"This is the very last time!" Face muttered as he took his hand from the steering wheel to nervously straighten his tie.

Murdock threw him a questioning look. "Last time for what, Face?"

"I am never putting on an army uniform, producing a fake ID, and never going to talk my way on to one more army base, well at least until I get my pardon anyway!"

"But you look so debonair in your uniform, Face – you always wore it well." Murdock chuckled. "I could almost go for you myself."

"Don't even go there, Murdock!" Face snapped as he drew up the car to the guard point in front of the gates of Fort Ingram. The guard stepped forward and snapped off a salute which Face, making the instant change from depressed whiner to confident conman, returned.

"Hello, I'm Captain Murphy and this is Captain Grabham," he indicated to Murdock who smiled blandly from the other seat. Face flashed his dubious ID as he continued "We've from the Pentagon Inventory Corps and we are here to conduct an inventory."

The fresh faced young Private looked as if he was about to wet his pants but he gulped his trepidation down and nodded. "Just a second, Sir," he replied. "I need to check the schedule." He turned back to the guard house.

"Of course," Face waited, the picture of patience.

Murdock began to hum very softly.

Peck threw him an agitated glare. "Stop it!" he hissed.

Murdock, rapidly descending into his most crazy simply smiled and hummed louder. Much to Face's chagrin, the song was most certainly 'Over the Rainbow'.

"I'm sorry, Sir," the Private returned looking even more worried, as he gazed down at the clip board in his hand. "What did you say your names were?"

"Murphy – Captain John Murphy," Face responded with the merest hint of impatience. "And this is Captain Ulysses Grabham."

Murdock leaned over and batted his eyelids at the young soldier, stopping his humming to say in a high pitched voice. "But you can call me Dorothy!" He blinked and then continued quite seriously, "Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high, there's a land that I heard of once in a lullaby."

"What?" the guard looked up in surprise.

Face snorted, threw Murdock his most infuriated stare and then got out of the car so quickly he managed to bang the guard's shin with his door.

As the soldier let out a wail and bent down to rub his leg, Face said, "It's a salutary experience soldier, isn't it?" he stepped forward.

"What, Sir?" the soldier said through gritted teeth.

"To see it at first hand."

"See what?"

Face sighed, eying the bemused young soldier minutely and lowered his voice. "You've never been to war, have you, son?"

"No Sir – I only got posted here out of boot camp last week."

Face nodded, sagely ignoring the strains of Over the Rainbow;

"_Some day I'll wish upon a star  
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me  
Where troubles melt like lemondrops  
Away above the chimney tops  
That's where you'll find me "_

that now could be distinctly heard coming from the car behind him.

"Attention!" Face barked and the young soldier stopped rubbing his shin and assumed the position immediately. "Well, you make a fine figure of a man, if I may say so, soldier – well turned out, handsome; you're a credit to this man's army. Now, I must be on my way."

"Begging your pardon, Sir!" the Private's voice was rather flaky and he looked quite sick but he forced himself to continue. "You're not down on the list."

"Not down on the list!" Face stepped back.

"No, Sir," the guard proffered the clip board awkwardly. "If I haven't been notified then I can't let you in… Sir."

"Can't let me in!" The flicker of impatience had been stoked into a fiery flame and Face was positively blustering now. Murdock hit a particularly high note and Peck shook his head. "Haven't you ever heard of the condition Combat Stress, soldier? But of course not because you haven't ever been in a combat situation, have you? Well, let me tell you, Captain Grabham was one of the best, if not the best. He took out machine gun nests single-handedly, he liberated whole villages, why he could do anything! Do you think a man like that wants to be assigned to Inventory? Do you think he is pleased by the fact that he finally let it get to him, that he took one mission too many. Of course he's not soldier but pride in a job well done is all he has left. He might not be able to lead an assault or fire a gun any more but he can damn well count paper clips and that's just as important in this army – it's what makes us great! So would you deny such a soldier, such a man, the god-given privilege he won in the mud of Vietnam and Cambodia, deny him the chance to make a difference? Would you, soldier because it sure sounds like it to me!"

The Private gulped, his throat bobbing like an apple on water. He was a bright boy and he read the unspoken message behind this Captain's words. Jesus; they were Inventory Section – what harm was there in that? The one in the car was obviously nutty as a Snickers Bar and, from what the other Officer was saying, he had become that way by doing his duty to his country.

"I'm not denying you anything, Sir," he began. "It's just you're not on my list and….."

"Well damn well put us on your list! Captain Ulysses Grabham deserves to be on any list in this army!" Face shouted in his best parade ground voice.

The Private hesitated again, one thought foremost in his mind – a Private did not argue with a Captain – not on anything!"

"Yes, Sir!" His decision made, he wrote the names on the bottom of his list and then handed the clip board to the Captain. "If you could just sign this, Sir. Then you can be on your way."

"Very well, Private!" Face agreed and scrawled an appalling signature across the page. "Keep it up, soldier!" he winked conspiritously. "I am so glad we understand each other. You'll go a long way!"

"Yes Sir! Thank you, Sir!"

With another salute Face got back into the car. Murdock was in full Judy Garland mode – those blue birds were definitely flying! Face cast him another withering glance which was duly ignored, nodded to the Private and gunned the engine.

"Well that was easy," he muttered. "Thank you so much for your inimitable contribution, Dorothy!"

Murdock batted his eyes and stroked the imaginary dog that was obviously sitting on his knee. "Any time, Scarecrow," he beamed. "Never forget; I want to find your brain as much as you do!" He then proceeded to finish his song;

"_If happy little bluebirds fly  
Beyond the rainbow  
Why, oh why can't I?"_

Face snorted. "This is the very last time," he promised himself.

He was still promising himself it ten minutes later as he sat hunched over the computer screen in the base's Supply Office. Murdock, now whistling, was standing by the door watching the goings on on the parade square outside with great interest.

"You got anything?" he asked.

Face snorted glumly. "No," he admitted. "They must have changed the access codes to the personnel system since the last time I hacked in and I've never tried the Navy before – it keeps throwing me out."

"What can we do?"

"Maybe if I …." Face pushed his cap back on his head, revealing the cotton pad still covering his wound, licked his lips, his attention completely taken by the computer in front of him. "OK," he breathed out in triumph.

"You in?"

"Yep – now, Grondyke, where are you?"

Hannibal had come up with this plan after they had discussed what they knew in the motel room the previous night after BA had returned. The big man had smiled broadly at Face who was still laying in bed. Peck had been unable to quell the shiver that ran up his spine; suddenly he felt sick again.

"So, Face," Hannibal began. "What happened?"

Pushing his disquiet away and refusing to look at the positively criminally happy Baracus, Face had taken a deep breath. "I remember Grondyke," he said. "I remember just as I went under he revealed some stuff. God, it's hazy though!"

"What did he say?" Hannibal asked patiently.

"He said I had something of theirs and he wanted it back."

"What?" Murdock asked.

"I don't know. He wouldn't say," Peck closed his eyes, tried to picture the scene and take himself back to the moment, to the OR and Grondyke's cold, despicable eyes shining with conquest. He remembered the fear that shot through him with the realisation of the simple fact that they were putting him under, the drug was in his veins, pumping around his body; in seconds he would be unconscious, completely at their mercy, supremely vulnerable and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

He shuddered again. "Mule," he whispered.

"What?" Hannibal asked.

Face blinked, pulled himself away from the pain of the memory. "He said, 'How does it feel, a member of the famous A Team duped into being our mule?'" Face gulped and looked up, his blue eyes wide with shock and the hint of another deep emotion. "I couldn't have brought drugs in; not in my head, surely!"

"In your head?" Murdock looked dubious. "It's supposed to be in your stomach. Mules swallow them.

"What did he mean then?" Face's shock was quickly overrun by the other emotion – anger.

"Murdock's right, Face," Hannibal said, noting the uncharacteristic flash of fury in his Lieutenant's eye. "You couldn't carry drugs in your head, not enough, surely. And if that was all they wanted to do they would have been better feeding them to you – that way they come out the other end of their own accord. They wouldn't have had to risk picking you up again and having to go through an extraction procedure. But you must have brought something in but why you?"

"My point entirely," Peck said dryly as he fought to maintain his composure.

"They knew you were a member of the Team. They knew who we are – I reckon they probably tipped Decker that you were at the hospital earlier, just in case you didn't bleed to death. They could have chosen anybody to bring in drugs which normally they do – why you?"

"Gee, you make me feel so special, Colonel," Peck muttered.

"It had to be small and light but valuable for them to choose this way," Hannibal mused, sucking on his cigar. "They needed someone in Argentina at the right time and who was coming back to LA. Someone they were pretty sure would make it out but they could keep tabs on at this end." He sighed. "I think we need to talk to our clients, the Watsons, they were the ones that put us on to Rees in the first place."

"Colonel," Murdock puffed out his cheeks anxiously. "I got a real bad feeling about this. You know the Argentina job went real easy – we even remarked on it."

"You don't think the whole thing was a set up?" Face replied. "That would mean they went to a hell of a lot of trouble, for what?"

"To get you," Hannibal stopped. "No, to get one of us – remember they scanned us all, so they didn't know which one of us had it."

"It making me mad, Hannibal!" BA spat and then flashed his teeth at Face. "And I was happy before."

Face shot him a watery grin, anger being replaced by fear.

"They chose Face because he was easy to get alone," Hannibal reasoned. "What was the girl's name again, Face?"

"Oh, she couldn't have been involved, Hannibal, I'm sure!"

"What was her name, Lieutenant?"

"Rosa, but …….."

"She's a lead at least," Hannibal cut across him. "Not that I'm suggesting we go back to Argentina. Well not until we've pursued leads a little closer to home."

"She was teaching me to tango," Face muttered belligerently.

"Can it, kid!" Hannibal shot back. "And next time your interest is aroused by dancing or whatever else, remember this little lesson."

Face opened his mouth to argue but decided his head was throbbing too much and he was better off staying quiet. He shut it again quickly.

"Don't worry, Face," Murdock said sympathetically. "I always thought of you as more of an ass than a mule."

"Your support is so appreciated!" Face snapped back.

"What do we do, Hannibal?" BA asked.

"We need to talk to the Watsons and see how much they know about this. It seems to me too much of a coincidence that they didn't know at least some of what was going on. I'm sure you can persuade them to talk, BA." Hannibal stood up. "Lets get some sleep – I got a feeling that this is going to get hairy before it gets better."

"There is another option, Colonel," Face offered. Three sets of eyes turned to regard him. "They got what they want; we could just leave it alone."

"Face!" Hannibal shook his head in disappointment. "Tell me how did you feel just now when you realised what had been done to you?"

Peck gulped. "Pretty stupid and then angry," he revealed.

Hannibal nodded. "And you are really proposing we let these scum bags get away with making you feel like that?"

"I guess not," Face hesitated. "I just think this is bigger than you think."

"Why?" Hannibal turned back to regard the younger man.

"Because I just remembered something else."

Hannibal smiled. "Care to share it with us, kid?"

"Just as I went under, I reached out, ripped away Grondyke's sleeve, it was a tacky suit anyway, but I saw his arm beneath." Peck licked his lips.

"And?" the Colonel prompted.

"He had a tattoo."

"Lots of people got a tattoo," BA growled.

"Not like this; I recognised it. I've seen one before."

"What was it?" Smith asked.

"It was a tattoo of the SEAL Trident, like the one Jackson had in Nam."

"Grondyke was a Navy SEAL?" Murdock asked.

"At some point, at least his arm was," Face responded bleakly.

Hannibal's eyes twinkled. "If he was in the service they'll be records," he pronounced smugly.

"Oh, come on Hannibal!" Face whined. "He will have changed his name, surely."

"It's a long shot," Murdock agreed.

"But that's the sort of shot I like!" Hannibal smirked. "Tomorrow, while BA and I look up the wayward Watsons, you two can pop down to Fort Ingram and have a nose through the personnel computer – see what comes up! We might have to look into Navy SEALs too – never liked them myself; smelt of fish!"

"Oh joy!" Face sighed.

"Cheer up Facey," Murdock chuckled. "We can look for your brain while we're there."

And that was why Face found himself in uniform again, hacking into the Pentagon Personnel Records System through a computer in Fort Ingram looking at the personnel records of NAVY Seals. "Nothing!" he groaned. "I tried Grondyke, Blondyke, Klondyke; every sort of variation and nothing comes up. He's obviously changed his name."

"Well at least we tried," Murdock said. He stiffened a little as he stared out at the parade ground. "It's looking like we may have outstayed our welcome, anyway."

Peck looked up. "What?"

"Looks like a Two Star General, no less, is coming to investigate just who is doing this inventory survey."

"Two Star General? Either we're getting important Murdock or there's not enough for the army to do these days!" He turned his attention back to the computer screen. "I wonder, it's a long shot but ……" he mused and then typed in another name. "Bingo!" he breathed.

"What you got?"

"Tell you later," Peck was busily scanning through page after page of information, he hit the print button and then began to close down the screens in front of him. "Where's the printer?" he asked.

"They're coming," Murdock said. "Guess we better go through the back door on this occasion."

Face nodded as he found the printer, grabbed the papers coming out of it and stuffed them into his pocket.

The door closed behind them just as General Malcolm Maddaford opened the front one. He was a blustery old man who believed he ran a tight ship but did not much like to be woken from his pre-retirement slumber by any undue action at his base. He had been alerted by a call from the Pentagon no less, informing him that one of the computers on his base was accessing classified information. Computers were completely alien to the aging General and 'hacking' was a word he was not familiar with but he got the concept by the time the rather intolerant Pentagon IT expert explained it to him for the fifth time. Once he finally understood about the cuckoo in his nest, he determined to sort it out and discipline the culprits himself. So taking his long suffering XO with him and thirty men he lead a courageous mission to the Supply Office.

"Just what the hell ……" he began but stopped as the message finally got from his eyes to his doddery brain that there was no one in the office for him to string up! "Damn!" he snorted.

"The back door, Sir!" his XO exclaimed.

Damn man is too quick for his own good, Maddaford thought, not for the first time. "I know, I know," he muttered. "Get after them and radio for back up! These mongrels won't get off my base!"

Murdock and Face found themselves in a large warehouse which was apparently where the transport trucks were housed. Long lines of green two and a half toners stretched out before them in perfect precision as if they had blundered into some anally retentive giant's toy box. They could hear the General blundering about in the office.

"Do you think there's a back door to this place?" Murdock asked.

"Got to be," Face reasoned. "Or how do they get the trucks in and out? Crane?"

"Good point, Faceman!" Murdock looked impressed. "Maybe you don't need a brain after all."

"At this point I think the speed of a sprinter would serve me better. Come on!"

He began to weave his way between the silent waiting trucks.

"And the stamina of a marathon runner," Murdock added before following quickly behind his friend.

Face skidded to a stop as they reached the back wall and saw the pad-locked door. "No problem," he breathed as he reached for his lock picks.

"Quicker than last time please, Face," Murdock requested, glancing anxiously over his shoulder.

The lock clicked open. "Give me a challenge," Face breathed nonchalantly. He pulled up the roll door as he stood and a shaft of brilliant sunlight arced through the dim warehouse.

"How about hot-wiring a truck?" Murdock suggested.

Face nodded and leapt into the nearest one as the pilot ran round to the other side door. Peck bent down and ripped off the covering of the steering column and then, pulling out the wires, began to fiddle.

"Hey you!" A voice came from their left. "Get out of the truck!"

"Tut tut," Murdock pouted. "Manners cost nothing and the 'p' word isn't in sight!"

Face growled but his grimace brightened to a smile as the truck engine roared into life. "Definitely not refined enough to be worth our attention. Shall we go?"

"You know, Templeton," Murdock's best upper crust English voice was suddenly to the fore. "Your skills have no bounds do they – hacking into computer systems, hot wiring trucks, picking locks; you really are the most artistic and charming rascal I know. Yes, let's go – tally ho!" His face took on a severely serene aspect. "After all, we really are not in Kansas any more, are we?"

Face slammed the truck into gear. "Don't start!" he warned. Then they were off and running. The clatter of bullets rattled on the outside of the truck as they moved away.

"We got company," Murdock said as they lurched out on to the main camp road and behind them a number of assorted jeeps and cars came into view.

"Not Decker, is it?" Face asked squinting in his rear view mirror.

"No, just a few soldier boys upset 'cause you pinched their truck, I think."

"Can't trust anybody these days!" Face grinned. "Those Captains from Inventory are definitely the worst!"

"Ain't they just!"

"Oh no!" Face said in sudden alarm.

"What's wrong, buddy?"

"Would you believe those distrustful swine store their trucks with only enough gas to get about… here!"

"No!" Murdock said, just as the engine coughed and spluttered and the truck came to a jittering but final stop.

Face banged the steering wheel in frustration. "I guess that screws the getaway plan somewhat," he groaned.

"Get out of the truck with your hands up!"

"And still no 'p' word!" Murdock protested. "What are we teaching our soldiers these days?"

Wearily they both opened their doors and climbed down to the ground, where they were instantly surrounded by a circle of excited action-starved soldiers, all with their guns ready.

"You are making a terrible mistake!" Face began out checking that none of the soldiers were ranked above Corporal and deciding that he still might be able to talk his way out of this one.

"Hands up!" The nearest one shouted.

Any hopes of escape were quickly squashed as General Maddaford was driven up. "Good work!" he extolled as he tried to negotiate the delicate manoeuvre of easing his amble bulk out of the confines of the jeep. "Now, what have we caught?" He cast a jaundiced eye over the prisoners.

At that point there was a screech of brakes and a familiar black van screamed over the skyline with an M60 blazing. The soldiers scattered and the General let out a most unmilitary shriek.

Face and Murdock took advantage of the distraction by diving in opposite directions and running. Murdock hit lucky in that he chose the road and BA rolled the van to a stop just long enough for the pilot to leap aboard.

"Where's Face?" Hannibal asked from behind the M60.

"He went across country, Colonel!" Murdock said nodding his head towards the cornfield that Peck had disappeared into.

The soldiers were rather belatedly becoming aware of the situation and some were even climbing to their feet.

"OK, BA," Hannibal ordered. "Double back around the field. We'll pick Face up at the other side and that way the soldier boys will chase us, not him, hopefully."

BA gunned the motor and the van lurched off back down the road. A couple of soldiers had enough about them to jump into their jeeps and follow. Some turned and ran into the corn field. General Maddaford was still lying on his back, his limbs waving uselessly; he was unable to right himself; rather like a rotund and massive beetle.

Face was running hard through the rows of corn. Breathing heavily, his head wound was beginning to throb and his legs were getting increasingly wobbly. He was beginning to doubt he could keep this up for any great length of time.

However, the maize in front of him suddenly fell away and he lurched to a stop, tottering on the edge of a manmade irrigation reservoir that stretched before him. He turned left, then right, gasping in air, knowing he was critically exposed. Over the top of the corn he could see the top of the van as it circled around the field. Behind him he could hear the shouts of the soldiers as they got nearer. Gulping in more lungfuls he began to run along the wooden edge of the reservoir on a course that would take him to the patch of waste ground between the road and the water.

Behind him there was a louder shout. He glanced over his shoulder to see a figure emerge from the maize. He forced himself to run faster and was further inspired when the tell-tale whoosh of a bullet sped past his ear.

The van had stopped and he could hear gunfire in front as well as behind as the Team covered him. He finally reached the end of the wooden walkway and stopped looking down at a larger drop than he had anticipated. He wobbled on the lip above the drop and glanced anxiously about himself, his eyes falling on a hay stack that had been heaped up beside the wall just to his left. He knew he had to move, so drawing in a resigned breath, he leapt into the relatively soft landing.

As the bullets flew over his head, Face wearily pulled himself out of the hay and made a run for the van. Murdock reached out and pulled him in as the door slid shut behind him and they were off again.

Face lay on the van floor gulping and wheezing.

"I think you've gone soft, Lieutenant," Hannibal said. "A little run like that should be easy for you!"

"I ……." Face started but stopped as he realised he had neither the energy nor the breath to argue.

"Oh, Colonel, I think he did really well," Murdock argued. He sat down beside Face and looked at him with the glint of admiration in his eye.

Peck managed to pull himself up and looked down at himself dishevelled and rumpled from the run and covered in….

"Straw," Murdock mused as he reached out to pick a stalk from Face's hair. "It's a good look for you, Face," he beamed mischievously. "It reminds me of……."

"Don't say it!" Face managed to get out, staring aggressively at the pilot.

Of course Murdock ignored him entirely. "A scarecrow!" he said.

BA let out one of his high pitched giggles and Hannibal smirked around his cigar in the front.

Face sighed but apart from that remained uncharacteristically subdued, shaking his head somewhat philosophically as he started on the long task of pulling all the straw from his uniform.

"You really jumped head first into that one, Face!" Hannibal guffawed.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6: A Disturbance at Dinner

**THE MULE KICKS BACK**

**Part Six:**

**A Disturbance at Dinner**

"What have we got?" Hannibal asked from the comfortable chair by the bathroom door that he was sitting in.

They were back in the motel room and Face had just come out of the shower, wearing only a towel around his midriff, having decided it was the only way he was going to get rid of all the straw, he moved to where he had hung up his shabby uniform and took a piece of paper out of the tunic pocket. He sat down on the other bed. BA was sitting on the chair by the door and Murdock was sprawled on the other bed humming to himself what sounded suspiciously like a song from the Wizard of Oz.

"Well," Face began, trying to ignore the pilot as he enjoyed being the centre of attention. "I struck out on Grondyke – tried every variation and spelling of his name but there was nothing there. He obviously wasn't called Grondyke when he was a SEAL."

"Damn!" spat Hannibal. "The Watsons were unavailable for comment, not surprisingly."

BA growled. "House was empty, everything gone."

"So it was a set up," Murdock sat up, stopping his humming and leaning forward; suddenly interested.

"It would appear so and a well staged one for them to get past Mr Lee," Hannibal agreed.

Murdock said. "What are we dealing with here?"

Face cleared his throat almost shyly. "I did find something else though."

"What?" Hannibal asked.

"That's right, Faceman, you little devil – what did you print off before we legged it out of that office?" Murdock asked.

"Well, I remembered what you said about this being linked to Argentina so I took a chance and put in Karl Brandt."

"Who?" BA asked.

"The doctor from Buenos Aires?" Hannibal remembered.

"You bet!" Face was in his element.

"And what did you find Lieutenant?" Smith asked, playing along.

Face lifted his piece of paper and cleared his throat again. "Well, Karl Brandt was a NAVY Seal from '67 to '73. He was given a medical discharge in October of '73 but I couldn't get to any more of the details, time ran out. Did Murdock tell you a Two Star General turned up?"

"He sure did, Face! I'm impressed, makes a change from Decker, I suppose.

Murdock looked unconvinced. "But how do you know it's the same Karl Brandt? I mean isn't it a pretty common German name."

"I guess, but give me some credit, HM!" Face said mildly, waving the printed papers teasingly.

"Let me see!" The pilot leaned forwards to snatch the papers but Peck was too quick for him.

"Wait!" he said, his eyes bright with teasing as he moved the papers out of the pilot's reach.

"Is there more, Lieutenant?" Hannibal asked dryly.

Peck nodded proudly, "I got a picture of his squad."

"And?"

Very slowly and with great purpose, Face placed the printed picture on the bed, the others moved to look at it. Peck pointed at a figure on the back row, "Brandt?" he said.

The other three squinted, it was a black and white picture, over ten years old, but the same tall, blond man with the coldest, lifeless eyes, which they remembered from Argentina, stared back at them.

"That's him," Murdock agreed.

"And what about him?" Face pointed to a smaller more squat figure kneeling at the front.

"Grondyke!" Hannibal breathed.

"So there's the link!" Murdock reasoned. "Brandt put it in you and Grondyke took it out of you, Faceyman!"

"See anybody else you recognise?" Face asked.

The other three glanced along the two rows of sepia faces staring emotionlessly at the camera.

"Well I'll be ….." Hannibal said.

"What? I don't see it!" BA growled.

"Back row, last man, BA," Face said. "Make him ten years older, give him a moustache and do you see someone we've worked for recently?"

"The Spaniard!" Murdock said. "Senor Jose Gonzales – the father of the boy that was kidnapped."

"Kind of scary, isn't it?" Face said.

"That's an understatement, kid," Hannibal agreed.

"So the conspiracy theory is proven," Murdock said. "All of this has been a set up from the very beginning – Argentina, the lot!"

Hannibal sighed. "To get us there and back again." He shook his head. "And Navy SEALs involved too. Just what in hell is going on?"

"What are we going to do?" Murdock asked.

"Well, speaking personally," Face said. "I'm going to ask you guys to leave."

"Leave?" said BA.

"Now?" put in Murdock.

"That's right," Face confirmed smugly.

"But why?"

"Because I've got a date and I would like to look my best, of course!" Face beamed.

"A date?" said Murdock.

"It's not so hard to believe is it?" Face said. "I do have them quite often."

"Not Chrissie?" Murdock said in horror.

"Yes, Chrissie!"

"Is that wise?"

"Wise?" repeated Face. "Is that a relevant criterion?"

"I agree with Murdock, Face," Hannibal put in, remembering that the nurse had revealed to him another side that Face was completely unaware of. "Until we find out more about this I don't think you should be going out."

"What are you guys? My mother? I am a grown man who happens to have asked a beautiful young lady out and she has agreed! I'm going! Now please let me get ready."

"Face what are you going to do?"

"It's a date, Murdock, use your imagination!" The pilot looked suspiciously at him prompting Peck to continue. "For Christ sake, she helped me out of a bad spot; I just want to thank her!"

"Is that all, Face?" Murdock asked. "She's just a girl."

"She's an intelligent woman! And stop making me sound like some sort of sexual predator!" Face said indignantly as Murdock rolled his eyes but refused to say anything else, so Peck continued. "It's a start, isn't it?"

"But there are trained Navy SEALs out there after you!" Murdock pressed.

"Wrong, Murdock. There are trained Navy SEALs out there who got me, got what they wanted and now have no interest in me whatsoever. Whether we decide to go kick their asses tomorrow has no possible relevance of where and with whom I chose to eat my dinner! Now please let me get ready!"

Murdock threw a glance at the Colonel who shook his head in a negative motion. "Back by midnight, Face?" Smith asked mildly.

"Or what I turn into a pumpkin?"

"Or a munchkin!" Murdock muttered.

Face let out a long, harassed sigh. "Look it's quite simple. I am taking Chrissie out for a meal. We are going to that new French restaurant on Lincoln – Laurent's. I will be back by midnight or if," he hesitated and rolled his eyes at Murdock, "It gets interesting I will at least call. Is that OK, mom?"

"Just fine, Lieutenant." Hannibal stood up. "Let's give the kid some room."

Murdock sighed. "I think maybe I should go back to the VA, Colonel."

"Are you OK, Murdock?"

The pilot looked slightly shifty. "I guess I'm just a little tired and I'm running out of my meds."

"You're not upset with me are you, HM?" Face asked.

Murdock smiled sadly. "No, you're just doing what comes naturally, Face."

Peck gulped. "If you're sweet on Chrissie, if you want…."

"No, it's not that, Face." Suddenly it seemed as if all the energy had seeped out of the pilot. He shook his head but his eyes were unreadable as he moved away, following BA.

Face licked his lips and hesitated, wondering what he should do. Hannibal's voice calmed him a little. "He'll be all right, Face – we'll look after him. You go, have some fun but be a gentleman with Chrissie!" As he moved out of the door the Colonel turned back. "Nice work in finding the link," he beamed. "Good job!"

Face gave him back one of his most dazzlingly genuine smiles. "Thanks, Hannibal. I won't let you down."

"I know, kid, I know."

* * *

"So, what do you fancy?" Peck asked, scanning the menu in front of him with one eye, while managing to get a good look at the clientele of the restaurant with the other and still not going cross-eyed.

"Oh gee," Chrissie said. "It's all in French."

Face, in gentleman mode, bit back the ironic retort that came so quickly to his lips – he had been around Murdock for too long! Instead he smiled, as Chrissie continued, "I really don't know – a burger and fries is normally OK for me."

"You don't get out much?" Face said.

"I've been working nights for a while. I only got tonight off 'cause Colonel Smith sweet-talked Nurse Morrow. He was one smooth operator."

"You think?" Peck said somewhat sceptically. "I taught him every thing he knows, you know."

The wine waiter arrived then and dramatically popped the cork from the champagne that Face had ordered. He waited until the wine was poured, then Face lifted his glass. "Cheers," he said.

Chrissie took a shy sip and then giggled. "Boy, those bubbles sure go up your nose!" she said.

"You never had champagne before?" Face asked.

"Nope," Chrissie looked slightly embarrassed. "I tend not to go to places like this much." She giggled. "Well, not at all, really!"

Face stared at her then. Obviously, he had looked at her earlier, of course, and given her all the chat about her appearance that he thought was expected of him, but this time, he really looked. She looked good sure; she was dressed in a simple but well cut blue frock the colour accentuating the sparkle of her eyes. Her make up was simple and sparse and she looked even younger somehow than she had done in her uniform at the hospital.

As they had entered the restaurant, Face had noted that Andre, the Maitre d', had rolled his eyes and looked up sharply at him. Normally the ladies that Face brought to this place were mature, dressed to kill, sure of themselves and confident in the rules of the game that they were playing. Tonight, Andre, a watcher of people due to the nature of his job, had picked up the difference between Face's his usual companions and Chrissie. Face wondered how many of the other regulars were thinking the same thing.

As if to emphasise his growing disquiet he heard his name being called and turned in his seat to see Cindy, a long term acquaintance, one time sharer of his bed, and habitual diner at Laurent's, coming towards him.

He stood, awkwardly. "Cindy, how nice," he beamed as she bent down from her stilettos to purse her lips in his general direction.

She was all heaving bosoms, shoulder pads and big hair but Face suspected almost everything she had was artificially enhanced. Still, that hadn't stopped him from taking up her offer a couple of months ago.

"Templeton, darling," she purred. "How wonderful to see you!"

"And you, Cindy!" Face could play this role as well as any other but this evening, under the appraising stare of Chrissie, it felt forced and false even to him.

As she leaned in closer, breasts pointing enticingly towards him, Cindy hissed, "I didn't think that blushing virgins were your type. You normally go for a 'real' woman."

Face pulled back slightly, his eyes flashing to Chrissie to see if she had heard. The young nurse smiled as if it didn't matter. Momentarily embarrassed for her and lost for words, he stuttered, "I… eh … I…."

"Later, sweetness," Candy purred. "When you want to play some more." She took Peck's face in her hands, planted a long, kiss on his lips and then left in a swirl of scarlet skirts and fake furs, but not before the stamp of her rouge was branded across Face's lips.

"Lord, who is she?" Chrissie asked. "Is she famous?"

Face sighed. He took up his napkin and wiped away at his lips, not surprised when he saw the crimson streak across the material – he could still taste the lipstick. "In her own head," he muttered. Pulling himself together he looked back at the menu. "You like fish?"

Chrissie nodded. "But I don't like fighting for it through the bones."

"OK," Face responded, studying with great detail. "Steak?"

"Not if the blood runs out of it."

He glanced up at her then. She was smiling at him. "You don't have to do this, Templeton," she said softly.

"Do what?"

"I may be a simple girl easily flattered but I'm not stupid, I don't fit in here," she said.

"Sure you do."

She shook her head. "I accepted your offer because it's not very often that a guy like you would ask me out, well never actually. But I was afraid that something like this would happen. You don't understand – I don't want to fit in with this." She looked around the opulent and ostentatious surroundings.

Face sighed. "Don't want to? What's to fit in with?"

"All this." She raised her hands to incorporate the room around her. "Before I started nursing I used to work in a soup kitchen down town and it was scary sometimes but I won't ever forget the look in those men's eyes and when I see all of this, it kind of makes me feel a little guilty, you know."

"You have nothing to be guilty about."

"Maybe, maybe not. As I said, I don't get out much since I got the job at the hospital and I've been working most nights and it's pretty tiring so I want to sleep when I'm not. I've never been comfortable in a place like this – how can you order things when you don't even know what they are?"

Peck shrugged. "You sort of pick it up as you go along," he disclosed defensively.

"I'm sorry," she replied, the light glinting in the moisture that had sprung to her eye.

"Sorry? What for?" Peck asked.

"You've shown me only kindness and brought me out to dinner and now I've offended you."

"No, it's OK, Chrissie. I'm not offended. It's just, you're right, I don't understand. I thought that bringing you here would be a treat. I wanted to thank you, you saved my life, without you I would have bled to death alone and unnoticed in that OR. I wanted to show you that …. that I thought you were special, that you deserved the best."

She smiled and sniffed. "You see that's where we're different, Temp; this isn't what I would call the best. I find all this stuff uncomfortable and claustrophobic and cluttering but you, you fit in so well. I just think I'm not good enough to share this with you and you should have a beautiful model on your arm, like Cindy over there. Not someone like me – I just don't fit and you do, you play the part so well and we come from different worlds."

Peck snorted. "We don't come from very different worlds, Chrissie." He took hold of her hands and squeezed then gently. "And you are way too good to be saying you don't belong anywhere. You are just as beautiful, more so than somebody like Cindy because you're sincere and true and what comes from inside of you shines out to the world. You are young and full of life and so free from the things that tie me down. I'm full of insecurities; I need to be seen in places like this. I'm superficial and shallow – it's me that's not good enough to share with you."

Cindy smiled, touched by his uncharacteristic honesty. "I bet you say that to all the girls," she said.

Face nodded ruefully. "Only to the ones I want to take to bed!" he disclosed. His eyes narrowed as he finally realised that what he had been growing to suspect was indeed the case – this girl was not as uncomplicated as she maintained. "And what about you?" he said. "You're not the simple, easily flattered girl, you make out are you? You didn't fall for any of my chat up lines back in the hospital, really did you?"

Chrissie laughed. "Sure I did and I certainly don't understand French! Order for me, please!"

"So why the act?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Temp." She shrugged. "Most men I met don't go for intelligent women – it's about bosoms not brains."

"But you got both," he pointed out. "Gotta be worth something!"

She laughed gaily. "So, you're not intimidated by a woman with an IQ of over 150?"

"150?" He responded. "Wow that's pretty high, I gotta admit!" There were hidden depths to this woman and her answers only brought more questions – why was she a nursing auxiliary if she was that intelligent? Why had she played along with his act earlier? He smiled and changed the subject shamelessly back to something he was infinitely more comfortable with; himself. "Am I really the bravest man you ever met?"

She giggled at his ingenious search for praise and shook her head so that her hair bounced beautifully off her shoulders. "Of course!"

"OK," Face appeared satisfied. "You like chicken?"

"Uh-huh," she nodded and watched him minutely as Face proceeded to make the order.

Afterwards he sat back. "You know when you got into that elevator, I knew there was something about you, Chrissie. I felt it deep inside."

"You're good at this flirting thing, aren't you, Templeton?" she observed.

He nodded. "I can't help it and I have had plenty of practise! Come on, Chrissie, the night is young – this may be your first and last time in a restaurant like this, lets make the most of it!"

"You play computer games, Temp?"

"Me?" Face guffawed. "It's not my thing and I'm surprised you do."

Chrissie shrugged. "I got an older brother and he got me into it. Anyway, there's a cool game I played called Destroyer. You play a hot shot pilot and you're blasting your way through the universe, killing everything that comes in sight and then when you get to the end of the game you realise you're all alone, and you've killed everything in the universe and there's only you left. And it sort of reminds me of you."

"A hot shot pilot?"

"Don't hide behind your shallow façade; you're better than that and you get the point. And for now, maybe, you are a hot shot but what happens in the end, Temp?"

He snorted, shook his head slightly. "You know something tells me you're not the person you make out you are, Chrissie. Maybe Murdock was right; you're not my type." He smiled, blazingly striking, "But that doesn't mean that I don't find your 'type' very attractive – is there a chance that we could, maybe meet again?"

Chrissie smiled. "If you promise this simple girl one thing."

Face rolled his eyes and let out a brave breath. "OK, shoot! But I'm not playing any computer games!"

"Next time you take me out, take me to Captain Bellybuster – I only need one more voucher for the free cap and I am a burger and fries, girl. Christ, I had to borrow this dress from my neighbour and I can't walk in these damn heels."

Face stared at her shaking his head in bemusement. "You are serious - maybe this isn't such a good idea," he said. Then his eyes narrowed. "So there will be a next time?" he asked.

She smiled. "Maybe! Would that be a problem?"

"The ladies I normally bring here don't talk about the next time," Face said. "It's sort of the rule, you know."

"I think we've already established I'm not like the 'ladies' you normally bring here and I'm far too simple to understand any rules – I'm just a nursing auxiliary. I want to see you again because I like you, not because you're charming and sexy and good looking, although you are obviously all that, but because I think you'd make a good friend."

"A good friend?" Face chuckled almost choking on the mouthful of champagne he had just sipped. "That's not normally a description women chose to use about me," he said.

"I bet the rest of the Team would say it about you, though."

Face snorted. "Sometimes …. Maybe… when I haven't screwed something up or when I've scammed something good."

Chrissie stared at him for a long time, her eyes piercing into him analytically, wondering if she should carry on. "I'm talking about you, not the things you do."

Face gulped and looked away, unable to hold her gaze, he fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair. "I don't …." He began and then stiffened noticeably. "I just got to go to the bathroom," he said with affected nonchalance. "Drink the champagne, and keep looking pretty!" he winked.

He was gone, weaving his way between the tables. Chrissie shook her head slowly, believing it had been the conversation that had made him uncomfortable, she did not look to see what other source there might be and so missed the three dark suited goons wearing sun glasses and the fourth a smaller man, who followed Peck into the bathroom.

Face had seen them when he looked up – Grondyke and three of his men coming straight for him. He knew he had to move and quickly, had to make sure that Chrissie was not implicated; if they recognised her from the hospital, who knew what they would do.

His heart was thumping in his chest as he entered the bathroom, eyes flashing looking for an escape. There was none but as he turned, the goons entered behind him, pushing him back until he hit his back painfully on the far wall and let out a gasp.

"Well, Mr Peck," Grondyke preened. "You keep popping up, don't you?"

"I could say the same about you!" Peck spat back.

"Well, this time will be the last, I assure you."

Face lifted his hands in a placating motion. "Look, this is getting to be a bit of a habit. This is the third time now – wouldn't it be easier if you just told me what you wanted and we could come to some sort of agreement?"

A fist to his belly stopped him as he looked expectantly at Grondyke but Peck was ready. He let his breath out with a noisy grunt and dropping his head, made as if to fall forwards. He grabbed Grondyke around the waist and, as the man tried to step away from him, he deftly lifted the wallet from his inside pocket. Face dropped it to the floor, the sound of its fall was masked by Face's further wheezing and then he kicked it under the sinks. It was all he could do at this time, but he prayed it was enough.

"Get him out of here!" Grondyke spat.

"Look I don't think…."

Another fist to his belly and this time Face's stagger was real. The two goons that had hold of his arms pulled him away out of the door and through the kitchens to the back parking lot.

Chrissie still sat at the table, waiting. She could not believe, for all his facades, Templeton Peck was the sort of guy to run out on her in these circumstances, even they she knew she had pushed him to places that his usual dates would never have even thought of – could she have read him so wrong? Should she instead have contrived to have played the role of quivering stupid girlie, hanging on his every word?

She sighed. And now she was in real trouble because the food had arrived, and most immediately worryingly; there was no way she could afford to pay for it!

* * *

TBC 


	7. Chapter 7: A Debt to Pay

**THE MULE KICKS BACK**

**Part Seven:**

**A Debt to Pay**

Hannibal and BA took Murdock back to the VA. The pilot was unnaturally subdued as he sat in the back of the van worrying at the grubby bandage on his hand.

"You OK, Murdock?" Hannibal asked as they drew close to the hospital.

"Uh–huh," Murdock responded dully.

"You ain't acting like it, fool!" BA observed.

Murdock pouted but otherwise refused to be drawn by the big man's comment. This, more than anything else, caused Hannibal to turn around in his seat and regard the pilot critically.

"Do you want to talk about it, Captain?" he asked gently.

Murdock shrugged and looked away.

"Is it something to do with Face?" Hannibal refused to be put off.

Murdock nodded thoughtfully. "I just…. I think … I know he's only doing what he always does but Chrissie seems kind of different – not like one of his other… eh ladies."

BA cast a surprised glance towards Hannibal who smiled. "I don't think you should worry on Chrissie's account," he disclosed.

Murdock perked up a little. "Why do you say that, Colonel?" he asked.

"Chrissie and I had a long talk on the way up to see Nurse Morrow. She's not as naïve as she was making out – I think she uses it as a protection mechanism. She certainly wasn't taken in by our Lieutenant and his little performance."

Murdock looked surprised. "So, why is she going out with him, then?"

Hannibal shrugged. "She said something like; a guy like Face doesn't ask a girl like her out very often."

"Do you think she for real?" BA asked.

Hannibal nodded. "I reckon."

"What about Face?"

Hannibal guffawed. "He is certainly not for real! What about him, Captain?"

"Well, he thinks, she thinks he's the bravest man in the world!"

"Kind of hard to believe, even for him?" Smith beamed. "Exciting though isn't it?"

BA chuckled. "Who conning who?" he asked as he drew the van up outside the VA.

Murdock shook his head but his eyes were twinkling with mischief. "Poor Faceyman," he said. "Out there all alone, without his brain and at the mercy of a woman!"

"He's a big boy, Captain," Hannibal smiled. "I think he'll cope with the shock. You OK now?"

Murdock nodded. "Better, Colonel." He slid the van door open and jumped out. "I'll see you soon."

"You can count on it, Captain. We'll send Face to get you – if he survives his night out!"

Murdock smiled. "She's a nice girl that Chrissie," he mused dreamily.

"That she is, HM," Hannibal agreed.

"Maybe ….. maybe …" Murdock stopped and looked into the Colonel's intent eyes. "Good night, Hannibal," he said and quickly disappeared into the gathering gloom.

Hannibal sighed. "Maybe, Captain," he muttered.

"We got half an hour before the game starts, sucker," BA said. "You want pizza or a burger?"

"Whatever, BA," Hannibal replied.

BA spent the evening watching the game, while the Colonel got engrossed in his newspaper and the hours passed pleasantly enough. However, as the clock worked its way around to midnight both men began to glance at it anxiously.

Eventually BA growled. "Fool said he'd ring."

Hannibal looked up from the paper. "He's got five more minutes," he responded.

BA shook his head. "He pushing it!" He stood up and began to stomp impatiently around the room.

"Easy BA," Hannibal cautioned. "You know as well as I, he'll push it as far as he can just to make the point."

But at midnight and still no contact the Colonel stood up with an angry snort. He phoned Face's car phone but there was no answer. "Where did he say they were going?" he asked the smouldering heap of anthracite behind him.

"Some place on Lincoln," BA responded.

"Wouldn't hurt to take a swing by there. Remind our forgetful Lieutenant of his promise, would it?"

"I'm gonna break his arrogant butt," BA promised.

They pulled up into the almost deserted parking lot only minutes later. Face's Corvette was parked in his normal cavalier fashion close to the door.

"He still here then!" BA pronounced as he drew up along side. He climbed out of the van and began cracking his knuckles aggressively.

They were met at the door by the elongated, grey figure of Andre, the Maitre d' who looked them up and down a bit and then shook his head. "Gentlemen, we are closed for the evening," he said in his best funeral voice.

BA growled. "Don't want your jibber jabber food!" he spat, pushing past the askance man.

Andre recoiled before him like a willow tree in a strong wind, unwilling to stand firm but also not able to move away.

Hannibal smiled brightly. "We're here to pick up a friend," he said.

"I am certain you will find that none of your friends can be numbered amongst our clientele," Andre snapped back stuffily.

"Well, that's just where you're wrong, pal!" Hannibal countered. "I can see one of them right now!"

BA was already moving to the one remaining occupied table where Chrissie was still sitting, her back to the door.

Andre let out a long, fraught sigh. "Ah, Mr Peck," he muttered in exasperation. "I should have known!" He stepped aside for Hannibal to follow BA. "If you can locate the whereabouts of the disappearing man, I would be most grateful. He seems to have forgotten about the check and the poor dear he has left here obviously has no means of paying it. I would consider that she does the washing up but frankly I wouldn't let her anywhere near my kitchen!"

Chrissie looked up as BA came into her line of vision. "Oh thank god!" she exclaimed in relief.

Hannibal pulled a chair up beside her. He lit his cigar slowly. "So, young lady, you want to tell us what's going on?" he asked around it.

Chrissie hesitated, considered her strategy but then the anger that had been festering inside her all evening, fuelled by frustration and embarrassment welled out of her like lava from a volcano, in a long stream of slurred words. "Me? Tell you what's going on? How should I know? I've been sitting here like a lemon for the last hour waiting for Templeton. I am so embarrassed, I don't know what….." She stopped, unable to continue because she had used up all of her breath.

Hannibal sighed and looked around the table. He noted the two plates of food – the one in front of Chrissie half eaten and the other completely untouched. There was an empty bottle of champagne in the stand beside the table and two empty glasses. He looked up at Chrissie again and he saw that tears were now flowing freely down her cheeks and he suspected that they had a rather high alcohol content.

"So where is our wayward Lieutenant?" he asked.

Chrissie snorted. "He went to the bath room over an hour ago!"

Hannibal rolled his eyes. "Either he's having difficulty passing that tracker we made him swallow the other day or…." He let the thought hang unfinished and looked at Chrissie, critically appraising her. "You didn't mention words like 'relationship', 'commitment' and 'responsibility' to him did you? That normally sends him running for the hills!"

Chrissie shook her head. "It's not funny!" She leaned forwards and spread her hands out to indicate the food before her. "Have you seen the prices in this place? There's no way I can pay for all this!"

BA grunted. "He hasn't touched it, Hannibal. No way Faceman would leave all this food – you know he got a thing about waste after his childhood and Nam!"

The Colonel nodded. "He drank all his champagne though!"

Chrissie wriggled guiltily on her chair at his point and Hannibal's eyes came to land on her quizzically. She hiccupped surreptitiously before saying, "What else was I supposed to do? I've been sitting here on my own all night!"

Hannibal smiled and shook his head, then he turned back to the problem at hand. "You're right BA. Face would finish his oysters before anything else! This is serious! Guess we better check the bath room."

"What about me?" Chrissie asked, aware that her voice was degenerating into a desperate wail.

Hannibal smiled. "Don't worry, Chrissie. We'll sort this whole mess out. I'll take the money out of Face's wages. Now stay here while we check things out."

BA was already making his way across the room, ignoring the scornful stare that was stamped across Andre's sneering face. Hannibal joined him and they made a quick but thorough sweep of the area.

"Come on, kid," Hannibal muttered. "Give us something to go on!"

"Hannibal!" BA was bent and peering under the sinks. He reached out and his bejewelled hand came back with a cheap, plastic wallet.

"No class," Hannibal pronounced as he took it. "Well, what a coincidence," he murmured as he peered inside. "Cuthbert Grondyke!"

BA growled. "Not again!" he snorted. "Why this time?"

Hannibal sighed, sending a silent prayer of thanks that his Lieutenant was gifted enough operator to be able to get this message to them. "Two possibilities – either they didn't get what they wanted the first time or they think Face knows too much so they want to eliminate him from the game. Either way, it don't look to good for the kid!"

"Plan, Hannibal?"

"Luckily Face came through good," Hannibal replied. "There's an address on Grondyke's license. It's a start any way!"

"We get Murdock?" BA asked as they moved out of the bath room.

"No, not enough time. I got a feeling our Lieutenant is gonna need us pretty soon and we've already given them at least an hour's head start. Though Face can talk his way out of most things I think even he is gonna be hard pressed to find enough material in this case."

"And the girl – is she involved?"

"No, she's clean. Why would she wait here for us to come get her? She'd have been long gone. Let's pay the check and get her home. Then we go after Grondyke – he is really starting to annoy me!"

* * *

It had been a tense drive through town. Grondyke was sitting up front with the driver and two goons were in the back sandwiching Face between them.

Face had done his best to lighten the atmosphere, remarking that it was so much nicer to be allowed on a seat instead of being transported in the trunk but no body had expressed an opinion except him.

His next target had been the omnipresent sun glasses sported by the two goons. "Hey guys, it's almost midnight. You can come out from behind your shades now surely – it's damn dark outside!"

The goons had remained silently impassive.

"Nice place," Peck had breathed as the car entered the parking lot of one of the new apartment blocks on the south side. He was working hard at appearing cool and confident while inside he was praying that there had been something in the wallet that would lead Hannibal to this place. Face could tell from the oppressive tension in the air and the tight tautness of Grondyke's body as he sat, coiled like a spring on the front seat, his eyes flashing frantically that there wasn't very much time for him to extricate himself from this mess.

They saw no one else in the complex as they made their way up to the fifteenth floor. Once inside Peck was roughly pushed through to the living area and forced to sit. His hands were cuffed together and forced painfully behind the back of the chair.

"So," he began arrogantly. "Here we are again."

Grondyke stood by the door, sweating profusely. "Not for long," he muttered.

"Oh and I was so enjoying your company, Cuthbert!" Peck beamed.

Grondyke scowled moving closer and bringing with him the acrid smell of body odour. "Where is it?" he demanded.

"Oh goody!" Face said. "I love quizzes!"

"Where is it?" Grondyke repeated menacingly.

Face screwed up his features and took in a deep breath as if considering deeply. "No," he said finally with a long sigh, shaking his head in defeat. "You're gonna have to give me a clue!"

The fist to his jaw was hard and knocked the breath out of Peck in a noisy whoosh. He could taste blood in his mouth.

"You think you're really smart," Grondyke hissed. "You are everything I despise in this weak, pathetic nation!"

Face clenched his stomach muscles, fought down his pain and made his smile even wider. "Oh gee," he managed through gritted teeth. "And I thought you were pursuing me cos you wanted to be my friend!"

Grondyke shook his head. "There is no possible way that someone like me would ever be associated with an asshole like you!"

Face pouted, the pain in his jaw fading. "You know that's kind of hurtful cos I don't think I'm that bad. Sure, I have some habits which could be perceived as being suspect but generally…" A further blow, this time slapping across his face and rocking his head back painfully, stopped his voice.

"I haven't got much time, smart ass," Grondyke continued, clutching hold of a handful of Face's hair and pulling his head back until their eyes met. "And even if I had I would not waste it listening to your mindless prattle. You are trained Special Forces, I know, but I also know that every man, and particularly a pretty boy like you, has his limits. My skill is in finding that weakness quickly and exploiting it."

Face groaned as Grondyke wrenched his head forward, but he was smiling when he looked up. "Well, between you and me, maybe a little tip you should consider, is letting me know just what you are talking about and what you want from me because I fail to see how I'm supposed to answer your questions when I have no idea what it is that you are referring to."

Grondyke's eyes narrowed. "That is interesting because if you don't know anything, I might as well just kill you now!"

Face gulped, let out a nervous giggle. "Cuthbert, that's really not very motivating for me to tell you either way, now is it?"

Grondyke smiled slipperily. "You're bluffing. I read your file. I know it's the only thing you can do with any hint of competency – lie, cheat and steal – America's con man. You have no idea of anything about this and that being the case, I have no reason to keep you alive."

He moved away, stepping towards the door.

"Of course that's the logical, jealous reaction I'd expect from a SEAL," Face said complacently although inside he was desperately searching for anything that would prolong the conversation and give him the time he needed. "You guys always overlook the subtleties of the situation, don't you?"

Grondyke turned back. "Coming from a Green Beret!" he mocked. "You wouldn't know subtlety if it jumped up and poked you in the eye!"

Face chuckled and arrogantly held Grondyke's stare. "But how do you know, Cuthbert?" he asked.

"So you know I was a SEAL," the other man began, his composure slightly ruffled. "That means nothing. You're gonna have to come up with lot more than that, pretty boy, to keep me interested."

"Make me!" Face challenged.

Grondyke hesitated, eying the other man for a long minute and then he smiled evilly. "You'd like that wouldn't you. A beating would buy you the time you need. Give your little pals in the A Team chance to show up and rescue you. Well, it's not gonna happen. You have nothing and you know nothing! You are of absolutely no interest to me."

"You can't be sure of that though Cuthbert, can you? It's a tough call but why bring me here if you were so sure?"

"I had to make sure you knew nothing that you had nothing else to give me, no debts to pay."

"I owe you nothing!" Peck spat back.

"Your smart mouth has proved that!" Grondyke nodded. He looked up at his men. "Take him away and bury him!"

"Now is that anyway to end what could have been a beautiful relationship?" Face could not resist.

Grondyke turned, his eyes flashing with hatred and buried his fist three times into Peck's stomach. Face gasped and sagged in the chair. Grondyke steeped back proudly. "I've been wanting to do that for some time," he disclosed, "Why should you guys have all the fun?"

One of the goons grinned appreciatively at him.

Face groaned pathetically, unable to lift his head, as Grondyke laughed at him. "Never a contender!" he spat spitefully and without another word left the room. The front door of the apartment banged shut soon afterwards.

"Come on," said the first goon. "Let's waste the guy!" He moved forward and took hold of Face's arm trying to pull him up.

Face groaned again, doubled over. "Jesus!" he moaned. "I think he broke something inside!"

The second goon moved in from the other side. "We ain't carrying you, asshole!"

"I can't ….." Face began but never finished. Calculating that he had the goons as off guard as they were ever likely to be, Peck stood up in a rush. He turned left and brought his cuffed hands up to hit the chin of the first goon and then brought his knee up to the privates of the other while spinning out of his reach.

As the two hesitated, more in surprise than from the pain of the actual attack, Face made his move. Lurching left, he ran for the bed room and the glass doors at its end. Praying that he remembered correctly and that this apartment block did have a pool and it was situated to the south of the building, the direction that his in-built compass was telling him the doors faced. He threw himself through the doors. He stumbled out onto the balcony, ignoring the falling glass and then he hesitated on the balcony.

The two goons were right behind him.

"Here goes nothing!" he screamed as he leapt into the yawing abyss over the balcony edge. Spinning in the air, he thrust his arms out before him and executed a, by no means, bad dive into the swimming pool which thankfully was below!

He came up for air, choking and blinking the water from out his eyes. The shock of the cold water, not to mention the fall caused him to hesitate for a second as he tried to find his bearings. The splash of a bullet hitting the water not too far away focused his mind, if not his eyes, and he stumbled forwards.

He became aware of a figure at the side of the pool and gratefully accepted the hand that was proffered to him. But he stopped as the shock thundered through him when a familiar voice said, "Would you like another tango lesson, Senor Peck?"

He looked, blinking furiously trying to make out the beautiful features of the figure that leaned over him.

"Rosa?" he exclaimed in stunned realisation.

* * *

TBC 


	8. Chapter 8: A Rose Between the Thorns

**THE MULE KICKS BACK**

**Part Eight:**

**A Rose between the Thorns**

"What do you mean, you know nothing about it?" Face allowed himself to simmer gently.

The Senior Nurse, Josephine Crawford, obviously not one to be intimidated by even the most aggressive of doctors looked down her long nose past the reading glasses that were perched precariously on its end, and stared at him disdainfully.

"And exactly who are you?" she asked caustically.

Face snorted. "Who am I?" he gasped. "I just told you who I am! Dr Gabriel Griffiths, Consultant Cardiac Surgeon; I'm surprised that you haven't heard of me."

The nurse shook her head. "No, I don't believe that I have," she said stiffly. "Why? Should I have?"

Face sniffed, working hard at getting just the right balance between fury and frustration. "I am eminent in my field! I have recently had the findings from my latest research published in Cardiac Arrest Monthly!"

"Never heard of it," she muttered dismissively.

Face snorted – it was not going well. "Well, I believe that shows a distinct lack of professional development on your part, maybe you should seriously consider your future, nurse!"

She gazed at him. "There is no need to get personal," she said verging on the edge of being aggressive.

"You are delaying me from seeing my patient!" Face continued to inch closer to boiling point. "This could be a life or death situation!"

"Ah yes," the Nurse was anything but rushed. "And which patient would that be?" she asked, her eyebrows rose in curiosity. "Remind me again."

"Mr Murdock!" Face bit back.

"Oh, what a surprise!" Nurse Crawford could no longer hide her sarcasm.

Face hesitated, put off by her reaction but he recovered well. "So, you are aware of his condition? It comes as no shock to you that I am here, then?"

"No shock at all," Nurse Crawford confirmed.

Face worked hard at stopping the surprise from showing in his features. "Dr Richter has mentioned me then?" he asked.

"No, Dr Richter has not mentioned you at all," Nurse Crawford said. As she spoke she pulled out Murdock's file from the pile in front of her. She scanned it quickly. "And funnily enough Mr Murdock's file does not mention a heart condition either."

"It doesn't? It doesn't!" Face did not particularly like the superior look in the nurse's eye. "But I gave specific instructions."

"When you were here, last week?"

Face stopped, a nervous feeling coiling in his belly. "Last week?" he said. "I was in Hawaii, last week."

"Were you really?" Nurse Crawford asked.

"Yes I was, lecturing at Honolulu University."

Nurse Crawford nodded knowingly. "Only I could have sworn you were here last week. But then you were working for the Dog Pound – a Rabies Inspector, as I recall. You took Mr Murdock away to have his shots and he only came back last night. Rabies Inspector to Cardiac Surgeon – that's quite a promotion; even for you!"

Peck opened his mouth to argue but stopped himself as Nurse Crawford continued. "Oh look, here's Dr Richter now. You can ask him yourself about why we didn't know about you!"

"I … ah…" Face turned to see the doctor, accompanied by a number of junior doctors making his way towards him. Peck glanced about the hall way, anxious for escape, realising that there was none, the sensation in his belly plummeting all the way down to his boots.

"Dr Richter!" Nurse Crawford called with the hint of triumph in her voice. "This is Gabriel Griffiths, he says he's the eminent Cardiac…."

"Dr Griffiths!" Richter beamed. "It's been a long time! How's the family? I read your article in….."

"Cardiac Arrest Monthly," Nurse Crawford put in, her face paling with uncertainty as her confidence deflated, fast.

Peck was valiantly ignoring the urge to turn around and see if Dr Griffiths, the Cardiac Surgeon, had indeed just walked in behind him.

"Cardiac Arrest Monthly, that's right!" Richter continued, reaching over to pump Face's hand enthusiastically. "Mental health doctors like myself aren't really interested in the heart, it's more the brain with us, but I make a point of reading your stuff; it's always such an 'arresting' read! I got to dump these juniors," he nodded to the haggle of wide-eyed students behind him. "What say you go on in and see Murdock and I'll be along in a while?"

Face gulped, trying hard to keep a hold on reality which he felt was fast slipping through his fingers. But he was nothing if not adaptable and he forced a confident smile. "Of course!" he said. "I'll see you there."

He stretched a hand out to Nurse Crawford who was standing stock still, her eyes glazed over with surprise and mouth open. "File please, Nurse," Face requested. "Oh nurse?"

She blinked. "Of course, Doctor," she said handing over the documents meekly.

Dr Richter beamed.

Face made to move off but turned back to the Nurse. "You should really keep up-to-date with your development, Nurse," he cautioned mildly. "I expect my patients to have access to the very best and most up to date care!"

She nodded dully, her formerly soaring ego plummeted and crashed without trace. "Yes Doctor, I'm sorry Doctor!"

Face winked. "No harm done, none at all!" And then with a nod to Dr Richter and his Juniors he made his way down the corridor to Murdock's room.

Murdock was fully occupied on shooting Space Invaders to hell when Face entered the room.

"Murdock – we need to talk!" he said, slumping down on the bed and taking in deep breaths as he loosened his tie.

"Oh. Hi Face!" Murdock did not look up from the screen in front of him. "Glad you survived dinner last night."

"Dinner!" Face shot back. "You don't know the half of it but no time to tell it now. We got to go!"

"Got to go?" Murdock did not sound too impressed. "I got my highest score ever now, I can't go yet!"

"But Dr Richter will be here in a minute!"

"So?"

"So! I don't want to meet him again."

Murdock snorted, grimacing in time with the imaginary shots he was firing. "He likes you, Face. When I saw him this morning he agreed to help you find your brain."

"Help me find…. Just what have you told him Murdock?"

"Just a little," he responded dreamily. "Damn – they got me!" He slammed the console with the flat of his hand and then moved away from the machine. He picked up his jacket from on the bed behind Face. "Enough to get you through that scrape at Reception." He stopped and looked Face up and down as the conman simply gaped at him. "Face, I know you are making the best of a difficult situation, losing your brain and everything, but you really are getting sloppy!" He moved past the other man towards the door. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to report your poor performance to the Colonel. Lord knows what he will say!" He stepped out of the door, leaving a bemused Face shaking his head slowly and wondering what the hell was going on…. again!

Murdock popped his head back around the door frame after a few seconds. "Come on, Face, chop, chop! We don't want Richter catching you here, do we?"

Face had recovered enough to give Nurse Crawford a beamingly arrogant smile as he passed her in Reception.

"Down boy," Murdock muttered. "She's old enough to be your mother!"

"Murdock, I wasn't ….." Face began his protest.

"No time, my little Scarecrow," Murdock cut him off. "We have to see the Wizard and soon!"

They were out in the parking lot when Murdock asked, "Can I drive, Face? Can I? Can I? Can I?"

Face snorted; truth to be told he was feeling rather light-headed and nauseous after the events of the past few minutes. "OK," he said dully passing the pilot his keys.

"Yeepee!" Murdock jumped into the driver seat. "I liked the Cardiac Surgeon bit," he said.

"How did you know about that?" Face asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Murdock simply ignored his question and babbled on happily. "Was it because I'm the Tinman? I got no heart!"

Face looked even more confused. "I thought you were Dorothy," he offered as he climbed disconcertedly into the passenger seat.

Murdock guffawed. "How can I be Dorothy?" he asked dramatically. He pointed down to his feet as he gunned the gas pedal of the Corvette. "My sneakers aren't red!"

"Oh, of course, how stupid of me!" Face groaned nodding his head dejectedly. "Jeez; I have such a headache!"

* * *

"So, Rosa, we haven't been properly introduced." Hannibal began as he took a long draw at his cigar and sat back in his chair to appraise the woman before him, his eyes sparkling in challenge.

They were in the motel room again. Hannibal was on the chair beside one of the twin beds, BA sat at the table and Murdock and Face who had recently returned from the VA were on a bed each. Rosa was sitting between the two of them. At the Colonel's words she stood up to reveal those long legs covered by sheer pantyhose, a scarlet dress which clung to her body in all the right places. She wore a short, black tailored jacket and a pair of high patent shoes. Her hair was long and loose and cascaded in waves across her padded shoulders. Her face was made up beautifully to accentuate the perfection of her features; she was certainly all woman, looking like she had strayed from now where but a top fashion display.

Face, who was still feeling rather fragile following his almost catastrophe at the VA, could feel his heart pump with increasing vigour as she turned those deep bottomless eyes towards him. He gulped and managed to pull his gaze from her long enough to check himself out in the mirror, quickly moving to discipline a stray piece of hair that was sticking up from his head, rebelliously.

"Of course, Colonel," Rosa purred in that deep, steady voice that Face remembered from Argentina. "It is a long story and you all deserve an exclamation. You may call me Rosa Garcia."

"Why, is that your name?" Murdock asked impolitely. Face sent him a warning stare which the pilot simply ignored.

Those smouldering eyes fell on the pilot and she smiled. "It will do for now." The eyes moved around the room confidently resting on each of the men, waiting, looking for an effect, measuring and appraising.

As she looked at Face, he could feel his grip slipping – no wonder she had enticed him in Argentina; she was doing it again and this time he was sober! He gulped in air, feeling a hot flush of desire rush through him, schooling himself to keep control. He glanced away, saw Hannibal staring at him, knew what the Colonel would be thinking and promised himself he would not succumb – not this time.

"I work for the government," Rosa continued finally.

Hannibal snorted. "Forgive me, Ms Garcia, but you are hardly the epitome of a government operative."

Murdock nodded seriously. "Which is good news for Faceman – he'd never be able to survive the strain if all the government goons looked like you!"

Face sent him a rueful look but didn't at that point feel he could trust his voice enough to argue, so he shifted his posture to cover his growing excitement and stared out of the window, counting back from one hundred slowly.

Rosa smiled both at the pilot's words and at the effect she was obviously having on Peck. She had chosen him in Argentina for a reason and she took a certain amount of pleasure in seeing it so clearly evidenced before her now. "I was recruited for a specific job," she revealed, "For which I fitted all of the criteria."

"I bet," Face groaned, fidgeting again.

She turned back to him then. "Senor Peck," she began. "It is you I think who has suffered most in this affair and for that I am truly sorry. I did not mean for you to be hurt or put in any danger – that is why I came back for you last night. In Argentina I was desperate and desperate women will take any risk necessary to survive."

Face shrugged and adopted his most manly put upon expression. Hannibal and Murdock exchanged a roll of their eyes and BA smirked.

"You are a brave man!" Rosa said. She batted her eyelids at him encouragingly.

"But brainless," Murdock muttered.

Hannibal snorted. "I think we are all aware of the Lieutenant's attributes, Rosa," he began. "Let's just get back to the reason we are all here."

"Of course." She turned away from Face then and he felt the cold loss of her attention. "I had some critical information that I had to get out of Argentina. It is a matter of not just our own but international security. I knew that the men I had stolen it from would kill me if they found it on my person, so I thought of a different way."

"What sort of information was so important that you risked Face's life to bring it back?" Hannibal asked sternly, obviously not taken in by the sexual signals Rosa was radiated to every one in the room. BA and Murdock were likewise regarding her with a critical eye; only Face seemed mesmerised by her beauty.

Rosa nodded and continued, "I was deep undercover watching a group of men, dangerous and violent men who belong to an organisation that has members in almost every country of the world. They are called the CELL. I had names and contact details."

"So you set up a fake kidnapping?" Murdock could not hide the disbelief from his voice.

Rosa shook her head. "No, I did not, I could not; I did not have access to such resources. I had only my brain and my computer. How could I do that? The CELL set up your involvement from the beginning."

"Then they knew about you?" Face was trying to crush his hormones and get his brain to work but it was not helped by the rush that cascaded through him every time she turned those sexy eyes on to him.

Rosa smiled sadly. "They suspected they had a leak in their security but they had not found it by that time."

Face shook his head, Murdock looked blank as BA growled.

"You're not making much sense, Senora," Hannibal put into words the thought that the others were all thinking.

"Please, call me Rosa," she smiled again. "I am sorry, it is all very complicated. Maybe I should go back to the beginning?"

Not giving her an inch, Hannibal nodded. "It's normally the best place to start," he agreed tetchily.

Rosa nodded and sat down again. Face smiled at her supportively and reached over to squeeze her hand. Murdock on her other side simply regarded her curiously.

She gave Face a smile that was somehow different from all the others she had given away so generously through the previous conversation – there was something actually sincere in it. She took a deep breath and began her story. "Some years ago it became apparent that a group of individuals who shared certain 'inappropriate' beliefs had infiltrated our military. They were supplied and trained to the very highest of standards and yet they were prepared to use these skills to operate well beyond the tolerances of what the American public would find acceptable. It was imperative that action was taken to stop these men from gaining positions of power not just in our military but also in the nation's government. All were tracked down and persuaded to leave their positions in the military in 1973."

Face snorted, his keen brain working again. "Karl Brandt got a medical discharge from the SEALs in '73. Is he connected to all of this?"

"He did indeed, Senor Peck. Your investigation was quite accurate. But there was so much more you could have found if you had had the time." She smiled again. "Although I must say I am impressed at your resourcefulness!" She shamelessly stroked his ego once more.

Face beamed. "Call me Temp, please!" he responded sweetly, allowing himself to luxuriate in the warmth of her smile once more as he ran his hand over hers.

"You would also have found that every single member of Brandt's unit left the Navy within four weeks of each other. They, in fact, became the basis of what has become known as the CELL. They are the men I was in Argentina to investigate."

Hannibal snorted. "Would you care to substantiate a little more about these 'inappropriate beliefs', you mentioned earlier."

"They are Nazis," Rosa said simply. "Fascists – intent on creating a world built on their bigoted views."

There was a loud and long intake of breath from every member of the Team. Face tensed and his head snapped upright. BA growled and cracked his knuckles and Murdock muttered ironically, "Somewhere over the wrong rainbow!"

"Argentina…. German….. I guess it figures!" Hannibal sighed, letting out a lungful of smoke.

Rosa continued. "Karl Brandt's grandfather shared the same name – he was Adolf Hilter's personal physician and worked with Joseph Mengele at Auschwitz. Gonzales' family had strong links with Franco and his fascists. Grondyke has no such illustrious ancestors – he is simply an arrogant little sadist who got swept up with the power of it all." She shuddered.

"And these people have been inside your head, Face!" Murdock said in a doom-laden voice.

Face gulped. "Don't remind me!" he groaned, pulling his hand away from Rosa and beginning to fiddle with his tie nervously.

"Exactly what were they doing in Face's head?" Hannibal asked.

"I can think of better places to visit!" Murdock muttered. "Mind you there's lots of space!"

Face sent him a disdainful stare as Rosa continued.

"They were aware that their organisation was under threat." She stood and moved to stand by the window. Glancing beyond the drapes; she saw that the outside world went on as before – a lovely warm morning with people going about their business. She stifled the shiver that fluttered deep within her – sometimes it was hard to believe that the world went on unchanged, apparently unsoiled by the festering evil that experience had shown her existed all too close to the surface.

She pulled her mind back to the dim oppressiveness of the motel room. Four pairs of eyes regarded her, waiting. They were eyes that belonged to men who had seen horror and lived to tell the tale, men who knew what it took to survive and were prepared to do it. But how far could she trust them? They were hunted criminals, wanted men – why would they do anything to help her and in so doing help the very government that had declared them such? Her training told her she should only reveal the barest essentials, use them as she needed and then discard them without a second thought and yet she did feel a certain amount of remorse that she was exploiting them. She forced it away as she has rejected the picture of the peaceful world outside, only seconds earlier; her modus operandi was simple; the end must justify the means!

She sighed and began again, choosing her words carefully. "They were in the act of re-locating. Their evil manipulations stretch around the world – prostitution, drugs – you name it. All in the name of furthering their Fatherland, all profits ploughed back into their evil dreams. They were trying to smuggle their files out of Argentina, wanted to bring them back to the States, so they could re-plan and re-focus. The information was infinitely valuable to them as it contained all the details of their sympathesisers throughout the world. They could not allow it to get into the hands of their enemies! And of course, it was just as imperative that I got hold of it and got it out!"

"No wonder they set up such an elaborate plan to get it here," Hannibal murmured.

Rosa nodded. "They wanted the best and they figured that you wouldn't agree to do it if they asked you outright!"

"No way, sucker!" BA growled.

"So they set up the plan to trick you into helping them. I simply tagged on and used it for my own ends."

"So how did you get all that info in my head?" Face asked.

"The plan was to use a chip," Rosa responded.

"A chip?" Murdock questioned. "But Faceman doesn't like chips, not like I do!"

"I do!" Face argued back childishly.

Rosa smiled. "They inserted a small piece of electronic wizardry that stores lots of information into the back of his skull. No bigger than this," She put her elegantly manicured fingers together. "It did no damage and remained hidden until they came to get it out."

"That's amazing!" Murdock enthused. "So small!"

Rosa smiled, "In the not too distant future the world is going to be miniaturised – small will be beautiful and everything is going to be so diminutive we'll all need glasses to see anything!"

"That's sounds very un-American!" Face couldn't resist the comment. "Anyway, I'm sure some things will always have to be big!" He wriggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Rosa ignored him, warming to her theme. "Only government operatives have access now - it's restricted but soon we'll all be able to get such gadgets across the world," she said. "It'll be chips with everything! Imagine TV screens as thin as your arm, cell phones the size of credit cards, and music players even smaller than that with thousands of tracks available at the push of a button. Hell, they will even be able to put chips is a dog's ear so you can track it by satellite and you'll never lose it!"

"In Billy's ear? Chips?" Murdock stared wide eyed.

"Believe it, fool!" BA snapped. "It's only the same technology as the trackers we use."

Murdock looked unconvinced, picturing the mobile phones the size of bricks he had used in the recent past and then a picture of Billy with a bowl of potato chips on his head, in the place where his ear should be, materialised into the pilot's fluid imagination.

"Guys, can we re-focus this please? I'm interested in what Rosa has to tell us about what was in Face's head." Hannibal said. "And why Grondyke and his goons came back for him."

"Yeah, tell us about these chips in Facey's head. Did he get a bowl of them to replace his brain?" Murdock asked, transfixed by the concept and transferring the image in his head of a bowl of chips for ears from his dog to Peck.

"No he didn't," Rosa revealed. "He got a chip, sure but it was a phony - it contained none of the information we've been talking about on it. I just wanted Grondyke to think it did!"

"Wait a minute!" Face looked confused. "But they kept kidnapping me and ….." he began. "I went through all that for nothing?" he shook his head in disgust, staring at the beautiful woman before him, his eyes bright with their intense blue and one big dollop of betrayal!

* * *

TBC 


	9. Chapter 9: A Farewell from the Flames

**THE MULE KICKS BACK**

**Part Nine:**

**A Farewell from the Flames**

"Wait a minute!" Face looked confused. "But they kept kidnapping me and ….." he began. "I went through all that for nothing?" he shook his head in disgust, staring at the beautiful woman before him, his eyes bright with their intense blue and one big dollop of betrayal!

"You took advantage of me!" he hissed, his voice icy calm.

Rosa held his gaze unbowed by his obvious hurt. "And haven't you done the same to a thousand others, Templeton, with your scams and cons? Please don't come all sanctimonious on me now – you knew you were playing with fire; isn't that part of the fun, surely? Don't be a cry-baby on me just 'cause somebody got the better of you on this occasion!"

"She's got a point, Face," Hannibal said gently.

"Cry-baby? Me?" Peck shook his head bravely, pushing away his anger and frustration, forcing a smile. He had spent a lifetime dispensing with the unimportances and adapting to the new situations that life threw at him and he wasn't going to give up that strategy now. So Rosa had used him – he had survived and lived to fight another day! "You got the wrong guy, Rosa! I'm always happy to help a damsel in distress no matter what the danger to my own person. I just like it better if she's honest enough to take me into her confidence so I at least know what's going on." He licked his lips teasingly. "Anyway, the way I figure it; you owe me, Rosa, and I can think of a deal of ways you could pay me back!"

Rosa tossed her head and giggled. "That a promise?" she said flirtatiously, her eyes holding his in a smouldering look.

Peck's smile was simply stunning. "You bet!" he beamed.

The electricity that cracked between the pair at that moment was so intense that the rest of the Team felt its power.

"Faceman ain't never gonna change!" BA muttered.

Murdock leaned over and slightly touched Peck's shoulder. He withdrew his hand immediately with a stifled scream and turned to thrust his hand into a nearby tumbler of water and let out a hissing sound. "Hot!" he agreed.

Hannibal chuckled. "Can we get back to business now, you two love birds, take a cold shower or something!" he beamed at Rosa and Face.

"Maybe later," she smiled but almost instantly the humour was gone from her face as she turned back to the Colonel. "You were the decoy, Temp," she continued. "And a fine one you made too – you took all the heat; they believed they were putting their precious chip in your head and by taking it out again."

Peck nodded. "Which is why they were so pissed at me last night."

"I'm afraid I put you in the firing line, again!" Rosa agreed.

Face puffed out his chest and smiled nonchalantly. "No problem; all in the line of duty!" she said bravely.

Hannibal cleared his throat nosily and held his pose until every eye in the place was on him. He began slowly but pronounced every single word clearly. "If Face was the decoy, I want to know which one of us was the mule!" He eyes fastened challengingly on the young woman before him.

"What?" Face gasped.

Rosa smiled tightly, accepting the challenge she saw in the Colonel's eyes. "Why would you think it was one of you, Colonel?" she asked.

Hannibal rolled his eyes. "You're here aren't you? I know that my Lieutenant has a magnetic personality, but since you used him so ruthlessly when it suited you before, I cannot believe you suddenly got worried about him and came back to save him from Grondyke and his goons – hardly your style! And this cosy little meeting, interesting though it is, has got to have a purpose."

"Hannibal, that's a very cynical attitude," Face whined.

"Cynical but realistic, isn't it, Rosa? Admit it; you would have been miles from here already if something wasn't holding you back."

Rosa pouted. "You tell me, what that might be, Colonel," she snapped back, fighting to retain cool. "You seem to have all the answers."

"Perhaps the real chip?" Hannibal suggested.

Rosa's beautiful smile froze on to her features and she started at the Colonel for long moments. Finally she let out a long sigh. "It is true."

Face let out a groan of disappointment. "I don't believe it!" he muttered. "I never see it coming!"

"I am sorry," Rosa said although she looked far from subdued as she sent Peck a glance saturated in desire rather than conciliation. Then she turned to Murdock who was still thinking about bowls of potato chips. "Where did you get that hand injury?" she asked.

"Me?" Murdock looked down at the grubby bandage on his hand and squirmed uncomfortably on the bed. "You mean I got the chips in me? The goddamn satellites can track HM Murdock?"

"I knew I wasn't the ass here!" Face pronounced smugly.

Murdock's features curled in to a scowl of suspicion. "It's been in me all the time?"

Rosa nodded. "And I need it back."

"Say please!" Murdock retorted.

She held out her small immaculate hand and said sweetly, "Please!"

Murdock still looked unsure. "But how come it didn't show on that scanner? Face set it off like a Christmas tree but not me. I had zilch reaction."

"And you're surprised?" Face muttered cattily.

"I re-calibrated the scanner," Rosa disclosed. "I set it to pick up the duff chip in Temp's head. I knew it would buy me some more time at this end."

"You're very good at this," Face observed, wondering if he was unduly upset by her cavalier treatment of him. Aware that it was not dampening his want for her one bit, he found himself unable to reach a firm conclusion.

"When you don't have the physical strength to fight powerful men, you have to find other ways to get what you want," Rosa said modestly. "I survived two years deep undercover with those animals – I had to be good!"

"And pitiless," Hannibal added.

"And you would have done it any differently, Colonel?" she asked. "I think not!"

"But a simple request for help would not have gone unheard!" Face put in.

For the first time Rosa looked at him with real anger. "I work alone!" she snarled. "The more people who know the plan, the more there is that can go wrong. This way I have completed my mission faultlessly."

"I think we would have a different opinion on that, lady," Hannibal said. "Particularly Face. And who says we'll give you back the real chip, anyway?"

Rosa growled. "We are wasting time – I must get the chip now!"

"Murdock?" The Colonel turned to his pilot. "It's your call – do you want her to cut you and take the chip?"

"Will it hurt?" Murdock asked.

"Don't ask Face!" BA chuckled.

"I can use a local anaesthetic," Rosa offered.

Murdock sighed. "Well, it's doing no good inside of me," he started, chewing his lip. "And if these men are as bad as you say they are then they have to be stopped." He looked over at Face. "Bravest man on the planet – huh!"

Face simply threw him a smug smirk and watched as Rosa set about her work – first anaesthetising the area on the back of Murdock's hand and then lifting her scalpel. At that point Peck pulled a face and looked away.

Within minutes Rosa was re-applying a new bandage to Murdock's hand.

"Look after that," Murdock said. "It may have been only for a short time but it has been with greatness – it must be priceless!"

"It is Mr Murdock. Thank you!" Rosa slid the chip into a small plastic pouch and then placed it carefully into her handbag. "Now, I really must be going. She moved to the door. "Thank you for your help, gentlemen – I will not forget it." She hesitated before turning back to them. "I don't have to tell you that this is the end, Colonel, do I? These men will be brought to justice through the appropriate processes. The A Team's involvement in this is over!"

Hannibal rolled his eyes. "We don't like to be used!" he spat.

"I understand that, Colonel." Her eyes moved across the room and rested expectantly on Peck. "If I could have done it any other way I would have done. I do owe you guys – Temp most!" She nodded and then slipped out of the door.

"Wow, what a lady!" Murdock muttered.

"Too dangerous," BA growled.

Hannibal nodded. He turned slowly, his gaze coming to rest of Face, who was sitting motionlessly on the bed, a look of complete indecision flicking across his features. Then in a flurry of movement, the conman stood up and cleared his throat. "Excuse me a second, guys!" he muttered as he followed the dusky maiden out the door.

"Colonel?" Murdock asked.

Hannibal let out a slow sigh. "Leave him be, Murdock," he said. "He deserves an explanation at least."

Face caught up with Rosa in the parking lot as she stopped to unlock her car. "I have to ask you something," he said, drinking in her beauty anew as she turned to regard him.

"Go on then, Templeton," she encouraged him, her tongue running along her lips. "You are a lousy tango dancer – if that's what you want to know!"

"No, not that!" He began, feeling suddenly disquieted by the personal attention of this goddess before him. "Did we …. In Argentina …. Did … eh … It's all kind of hazy for me and I can't remember …." He chuckled nervously as she stepped towards him, a teasing smile playing across her mouth. He forced himself to continue. "And I think I really want to remember .. if we …."

"You want another notch on your bed post?" she asked.

"No, no!" He could smell the intoxicating perfume of her body as she moved even closer to him. He drew in a ragged breath. "I really …. You're beautiful and…. I …."

"A sight not often seen," she teased.

"What?"

"Templeton Peck lost for words!"

"Well, it's not every day that a lady as beautiful as you …."

Her head moved towards him and her mouth opened in welcome. He could not look away from her dazzling smile. He felt her hands run down his back and his soul shuddered with a deep wanting. And then they were kissing, tongues dancing, hands touching. It lasted forever and it lasted for only a few seconds but Face's world trembled at the power that ached between them.

She pulled away. "No, we never did," she confirmed.

He licked his lips, tasting her, unwilling to move his arms from her embrace, wanting so much more but playing the required role, he simply shrugged at her words. "That's a shame," he said.

"It is," she agreed, appearing just as unwilling as him to move away.

"May be we could …." he began.

"Duty will always come first," she said. "I have to go."

"Of course," he agreed stepping back and ignoring the tinge of regret that strained at his heart strings.

"I have to go," she repeated but he sensed the longing in her voice, caught it in the flash of her eyes and held her close once more, not wanting to let her go, not wanting to admit this was the end.

"Rosa …" he began.

The gun shot cracked through the sultry morning air and woke them both from the comfort of their complacent embrace.

"Shit!" Face spat as he threw himself to the floor behind Rosa's car. She did likewise and for long seconds they simply cowered together as further bullets rang out.

"This your car?" Face whispered.

"Rental," Rosa nodded.

"Open it and slide across to the passenger seat," he instructed her, suddenly calmly cool in the face of very real danger.

She nodded, letting out a fearful whimper before she bit her lip firmly and forced back all other noise. Face noted the blood bubbling from the wound that had cut clear across her sleeve at the top of her arm.

"You're hit!" he hissed.

She gulped and glanced down at it. "It's nothing – just a scratch!"

He took out a handkerchief and quickly fixed it around the wound, sharing her pain as she groaned softly. Then, with a brave smile, she slipped in to the car, keeping her hand low and he followed her into the driver seat.

"Where were you going?" he asked, gunning the engine and reversing out the space with a squeal of tyres and smoking rubber.

"Small airfield, south of here. There's a plane fuelled and ready to take me to Washington," she said through gritted teeth.

He nodded grimly, selecting his gear. "Nice car," he breathed as the Porsche Boxer picked up power and hurtled out of the lot to be immediately followed by the goons who had been firing at them. As they shot passed Face thought he caught a glimpse of Grondyke but he was not sure.

"Can we out run them?" Rosa asked, looking over her shoulder fearfully.

Peck nodded. "We can try. The guys will have heard the commotion so they won't be far behind his."

Bullets were still flying past them as Face threw the sports car around a corner and careered along between two storage units.

"Damn!" Rosa screamed, "Dead end!" The gates that barred their way were coming towards them at a terrifying speed.

Face executed a perfect parking brake turn and suddenly they were flying back at speed towards their attackers. "Get down!" he hissed as the windshield in front of them shattered.

Rosa screamed but Face used his elbow to knock out the glass and then resolutely peered out of the gaping hole. Behind them the sedans were turning around and as the Porsche passed the motel a black van shot out behind them from the lot.

"That's my boy!" Hannibal chuckled proudly as Face lifted his arm in salute as he roared past. "Now, let's help him out!"

BA positioned the van between the Porsche and its pursuers, slowing them down as much as he could and the powder blue sports car shot down on to the Interstate like a bullet.

Murdock and Hannibal were in the back of the van and firing out the back doors.

"This here mule is kicking back, big time!" Murdock shouted.

"Are you OK?" Face asked casting a swift but anxious gaze at Rosa who had gone very pale and was slumping in the seat beside him. She was clutching her hand bag to her chest, her hands white as parchment around the black leather.

"I'm OK," she said with a weak smile. "I always hate this type of thing!"

Face smiled as he slung around another interchange leaving a trail of burning rubber. "I thought you were a secret agent!" he teased.

"I am – how can all this shooting and squealing and macho crap be secret?" she asked.

"Good point," he agreed jovially, feeling a lot more in control than he seemed to have been since before he had first met this beautiful woman; he was enjoying himself immensely! "Where's this air field?"

She opened her eyes long enough to glimpse the landscape as it flew by and then she closed them again quickly. "Up here take a right!" she squeaked.

"Your wish is my command," Face said. As the car careered around the corner, up a ramp and slammed through a gate, sending the startled security guard leaping away for his very life.

"Was that absolutely necessary?" Rosa moaned, all of her colour gone from her face except for a peculiar green glint.

"Oh, yes!" Peck said, as he floored the gas pedal again and they slewed around the airfield building, a Leer jet coming into view across the runway.

"That your ride, my Lady?" Face asked.

"Sure is!" The relief was evident in her voice but it was short-lived, as she saw hurtling from the other side of the field, another sudan with guns blazing from its windows.

"Where did he come from?" Rosa asked.

"Guess they were waiting for you!" Face exclaimed as again he negotiated a further seemingly impossible corner. "Don't worry, sweetheart, it'll take more than that to catch us!"

The ground between the racing car and the waiting plane was being eaten up and in no time, Peck was screeching to a halt, as he spun the car so that it stopped with Rosa only inches away from the jet's door.

"Go!" he ordered.

She threw him a longing glance. "I can't," she hesitated.

"Duty first!" he said with a wink and lightly pushed her out of the car. Strong hands reached down from the plane and pulled her, still clutching her bag frantically, up into safety as the bullets fizzed around her.

Peck gunned the engine again but as he did so the first Sudan had got so close that it was able to blow all of the Porsche's tyre in an orgy of exploded rubber. The car slid out of his control and came to a halt on the tarmac. Behind him the engines of the Leer were going to full throttle and the plane began to move but only agonisingly slowly.

Face snorted and looked about for a means of escape. The tanker which had just re-fuelled the jet was lurching slowly away back towards the safety of the buildings.

Face slipped out of the car and then, keeping low, and using it to shield him as much as he could, he threw himself across the tarmac and latched hold of the ladder on the back of the tanker. He dangled there for dangerous long seconds, holding on only by his hands and his feet dragging along the floor. He finally got a foothold, climbed up to the top of the tanker and reached for the trusted Smith & Wesson Model 19 .357 Magnum in his shoulder holster.

At that moment BA's van, closely followed by Grondyke and his goons, screeched out on to the air field.

Aware of the peril of his situation as the vehicles roared towards him, Peck got off a few shots before crawling along the top of the tanker and banging on the roof of the cab!

"Get out!" he screamed at the driver.

The driver, somewhat bewildered, opened his door, and jumped out. Face ran back along the tanker as the bullets flew around him and then he threw himself off of the end. He hit the tarmac with a dull thump and then lay still. A stray bullet finally hit the volatile fuel in the tanker and the whole thing was enveloped in a terrific explosion sending flames dancing up into the sky.

At the end of the runway and unconcerned by the carnage it left in its wake, the sleek jet lifted majestically into the air, taking with it the information that would bring down the schemes and plans of the men still fighting so desperately on the tarmac below.

BA stopped the van and the fire fight was at full force now but far off the incessant wail of police sirens could be heard slicing through the air moving steadily towards them.

"We going, Colonel?" BA asked. "Got to get out of here!"

"A little longer, BA," Hannibal said. "I want to make sure none of these scum bags get away. Murdock – go rescue our Lieutenant, will you? This'll teach him not to take pretty girls out in fast cars!"

"You think, Colonel?" Murdock asked sceptically.

"Maybe not!" Hannibal conceded.

As the others gave him covering fire, Murdock made his way to where Face was lying, still motionless.

"Faceyman! Faceyman!" Murdock knelt beside him. "You sleeping again? It's always the same these days!"

Face groaned and his eyes opened slowly.

The van pulled up beside them. "Come on, Lieutenant!" Hannibal shouted. "Up and at 'em!"

"I can't!" Face whined. "My head hurts!"

Murdock soothed him. "Yeah I know, buddy, we haven't found your brain yet but we will – we will! But now you lost the girl too!"

Slowly Face allowed himself to be helped into the van. "Come on suckers!" BA called from the driver seat. "We got company!"

Finally Face was groaning from his seat in the van. BA gunned the motor just as the squad cars spluttered on to the runway.

"You see the lady safely away, Face?" Hannibal asked, he lit his cigar as they bumped over the stones at the far side of the strip and back on to the freeway.

Face groaned and nodded weakly.

"I loved it when a plan comes together!" Hannibal beamed happily!


	10. Chapter 10: An End in Sight

**THE MULE KICKS BACK**

**Part Ten:**

**An End in Sight**

"Well, here we are!" Face pulled the Corvette to a halt outside the gaudy, neon light flashing building as it beamed out into the sweltering twilight before them. "Are you sure this is the right place?" he asked.

"Gee, thanks, Face," Murdock replied. "And thanks for getting me out the VA again and driving me over here."

"No problem."

"You really are the bestest friend I ever had. Sure you don't mind about me and Chrissie?"

"Hey, I already told you Murdock, Chrissie's a great girl – you'll get on really well. Just take a tip from me – don't leave her to pay the check!"

"Check?" Murdock repeated. "Oh, we're not going out to dinner – no way we want to spend the night cooped up in a stuffy restaurant. No, Chrissie reckons she got 158 million, 582 thousand, three hundred fifty two on Chucky Egg. I told her it wasn't possible." He nodded toward the arcade. "She's gonna show me – I gotta see this!"

"Chucky egg?!"

"Yeah, it's a computer game. Come and watch, Face. It'll be great, really it will!"

Face shook his head. "I think I'll pass on that Murdock but thanks for the invite!"

"We might go for a burger later. Chrissie only needs one more voucher for a Captain Bellybuster hat!"

"You sure know a lot about her, HM," Face said teasingly.

Murdock ignored the ironic comment. "We talked on the phone for ages last night. She's really nice!"

"Sure you don't want to come back to my new place?" Face wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Why, you got arcade games there too?"

Face snorted in frustration. "No. But I thought you might want to do something else!"

"On a first date? Faceman! I'm shocked! I don't think Chrissie is that sort of girl at all!"

Face let out a sigh. "No, maybe not," he muttered.

Murdock glanced at his watch. "We're a bit early – that's good 'cause I wanted to give you something."

"Me?" Face tensed. "Why?"

"Because you are the bestest friend I ever had and you've been through a lot recently and I wasn't as helpful as I could be and….."

"Enough already, Murdock! I get the point but you don't have to buy me something."

"I didn't buy it."

"What you stole it? You're giving me stolen goods now?"

Murdock rolled his eyes. "As if that makes a difference to you."

"So what is it?" Face said ignoring the pilot's remark.

"Close your eyes and put your hand out."

"Murdock, I…."

"You want this, don't you?" Face nodded. "Well shut up, close your eyes and put out your hand!"

Peck sighed expressively and expansively but did as he was told. Murdock placed something small and hard on to his hand.

"Now you can open them!"

Face did so and simply stared at the round brown object that perched on his hand. "Murdock, it's a walnut," he said.

"Ssssh – I think we might get away with it!"

"What?"

"I saw it in the kitchen at the VA and I thought it might work."

"Work?"

"Uh-huh. I feel kind of bad that we never found your brain so I thought you could use this instead. No one will know, you could keep it in your pocket and get it out when you needed it. I reckon with your talent you'd pull it off, Faceman!"

"A walnut…… my brain!" Face let out a sigh of defeat. "Gee, thanks Murdock. I don't know what to say…."

Murdock put his hand over Face's and gently closed the con man's fingers around the nut. "Don't mention it, what are friends for? Quick hide it – here comes Chrissie!"

Sure enough making her way down the sidewalk in front of them was Murdock's date. She was wearing jeans, a sweat top and sneakers and Face had to admit, as he fumbled to secret the walnut into his pocket, she looked a lot more comfortable than on the night he had taken her out.

Murdock got out of the car to greet her. They both squatted down to talk to Face through the door window.

"Hi, Face," Chrissie smiled.

"Hi, Chrissie."

"You OK?"

"Fine!"

"Not got a date tonight?"

"Not got a date tonight?" Face scoffed. "Are you kidding? I thought I'd…."

"She gave him the brush off," Murdock cut in.

"Who?" Chrissie asked, her eyes flashing her interest.

"Rosa Garcia."

"Murdock!" Face snorted. "There was nothing going on there – she was just teaching me to tango!"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah!" Face felt himself flush.

"Tango!" Murdock shook his head, eyes shining in sympathy. He turned back to Chrissie. "She said she'd phone him, just like he says he'll phone the girl after our cases are over but he never does!"

Chrissie's eyes were so full of sympathy that Peck felt himself squirm uncomfortably. "Too bad, Temp. Say why don't you come with us? We won't mind, will we, HM?"

"Look, I am not some charity case that you all have to take pity on me and organise my social calendar!" Face exploded. "There's plenty of people I could look up. BA invited me to watch the football and Hannibal…." He stopped after looking up to see that neither of them were listening to him. Instead both were lost, looking deep into the other's eyes.

"See you later, Face," Murdock said breathlessly.

"See you," Chrissie chirped in.

"Yeah, bye! Have fun with Chucky Egg!" They never heard him as they turned away. Face sat in the car and watched them enter the arcade arm-in-arm, completely oblivious to everyone and everything else.

Face sighed. He remembered that feeling, wanted it now but…..

He gunned the engine, moving the Corvette through the evening traffic as the thoughts tumbled through his head. The truth was slightly different from the lines he had been prepared to feed to Chrissie and Murdock, if either of them had been prepared to give the other one up long enough to listen. In truth BA still had not got him back for vomiting on his precious upholstery, so Peck did not want to risk going anywhere near the big guy and definitely not on his own! Hannibal had hooked up with two leggy blondes he had met on the set of his latest movie and the Colonel had made it quite clear that Peck was not wanted when he had tried to muscle in on the action.

So Face really didn't have anyone to share the night with. But hell, he didn't need anyone, did he? He thought about heading over to Laurent's but in truth he knew he couldn't stomach the ostentatious people and their superficial glamour, not this night. He turned the Corvette into the parking lot of his new pad. A quiet night in would be good, he needed to relax after the hassles of the last few days but a nasty thought hit him. Gamely, he tried to ignore it as it continued to linger, growing even larger, in his mind until by the time he was up to his apartment it had bloomed into a horrifying possibility.

What if he was losing it? What if the rest of his life was going to be like this – alone. He gulped back a tumbler of scotch in one panicked choke. Surely it couldn't be – all right, so he wasn't as young as he once had been but he wasn't old! He thought back through the day – remembered the pretty brunette at the gas station – she had given him a come-on smile but she hadn't pushed it any further. Time was a smile like that would have led to a telephone number, dinner, back to her place….

But this time …. today …. now… he was sitting alone in the dark with only a glass of whiskey for company. Was this it? Was this how it was going to be from here on in?

A bang at the door rescued him from the morose maelstrom that his mind was rapidly sliding into. He sat momentarily unsure of what to do.

The knock came again…. Murdock – had to be! Obviously Chucky Egg had only limited entertainment value and now they were back to practise something a little more demanding. Which was, of course, bad news for Peck – at least a couple of seconds ago he had a place to spend his lonely night, now he was going to lose that too!

Get a grip, Peck!

He stood rather wearily and made his way to the door, assuming his best conceited, unconcerned look. "I knew Chucky Egg wouldn't keep you….." He stopped, his mouth falling open.

"Brought your handkerchief back, Templeton," she purred in that husky voice that sent flames of heat firing straight to his crotch.

"Rrrrrosa," he managed to say.

She smiled, swung the aforementioned hankie in his face and then gently dropped it into his hands as she pushed passed him into the apartment.

He clutched at his decorum desperately. All right, she'd wrong footed him for sure but that didn't mean that he had to give in to her charms completely… not yet anyway!

"Cleaned and ironed, thanks!" he said smoothly, putting the hankie in his pocket and then turning to watch her as she made an examination of the apartment.

"Maid at the hotel did it – I'm not really the domestic type," she said, arching those delectable eyebrows. She pouted and looked around the room, running her hand along the top of the white, leather sofa. "Nice place you got here, Temp!" she purred again.

God; he could hardly swallow!

"Not mine. I …. er … I'm looking after it for a friend!" He followed those mesmerising, swaying hips, that he seemed unable to get out of his eye line, into the bedroom.

"Water bed? View of the ocean," she said. "How very arousing!"

Face gulped, hang on to it, hang on, he was telling himself. Think! Come on coherent thought, help me out here – jeez, is it time to use that damn walnut, he thought in desperation! "I … ah …."

She turned back to him then. Stepped forwards so they were incredibly close. "I owe you an apology, Templeton and a big thank you for getting me away from Grondyke. I like to pay my debts!"

He forced out a nervous chuckle. "It was nothing, really!"

She reached up and began to undo his tie. "Nifty driving, courage, plus a little paramedic skill thrown in." She looked up into his eyes, running that eloquent tongue across her lips and moving so their bodies were touching. "You impressed me and there is nothing I find more attractive and stimulating than an impressive, resourceful man!"

"There isn't?" Where they touched Face could feel the excitement sparking between them, arcing like lightening across a summer sky.

"Oh, no; there isn't." She was ready, ripe and open and who was he to deny a woman so obviously in need?

He smiled, remembering the buzz that saving her had brought him, remembering how in control he had been and realising that he could be so again. He reached out and enveloped her in his arms, pulling her even closer and engulfing her mouth with the heat of his own.

They kissed hot, long and hard and then they pulled apart. Rosa smiled. "You could never be a mule, Templeton."

"No?"

"Mules are almost always sterile," she beamed. "And I know you are all man!"

He grabbed her again. "I am, aren't I?" he agreed conceitedly before setting about proving the fact with great gusto, enthusiasm and stamina.

* * *

Lord, Face thought as he lounged on the water bed many hours later, who needs to tango anyway?

The morning sun light was arrowing in through the window and dappling on to the quilt that covered him. He sighed and gently pulled it up over the sleeping form beside him.

Next time I really will listen, Colonel, the guilty thought fluttered around his head like a moth looking for the light. After all Hannibal had been telling him for years he should learn to control his natural appetites, but how could he? If she was pretty and available and giving him the 'come-on' with a sexy smile, Face felt he had a duty to oblige – making people, especially beautiful woman, happy was what he'd been put on this earth for, surely?

And then again, he snuggled up to the lithe beautiful body of Rosa sleeping beside him, still bathed with the radiant afterglow of their passion and he knew he never would. No matter what Hannibal said, the risk was always worth it because sometimes …. just sometimes … this was the result. He could take all the other times, all the hassles they brought with them, sure in the knowledge his Team mates would get him out, would willingly risk themselves to save him from any danger. They would do that because they were a Team and he was a valued member. They knew his weaknesses and they compensated, helped him through, as he did with them.

He would never be able to say no, not to this, not to the ecstasy, and they would never really expect him to.

He smiled again – he could never give this up because for all the nuisance and trouble it caused, there was always the remote chance that at the end of it there would be a sparkling jewel like Rosa waiting for him.

He saw then it did not matter what the future would bring, this moment was all that was important to him, and all that ever would be………………

The End


End file.
